What if the Boy Hadn't Lived?
by I'm a Muppet of a girl
Summary: What if Harry decided not to come back to life? Instead of returning to defeat Voldemort, he moves on with Dumbledore. But what will happen to the people Harry left behind? It'll be up to them to find a way to stop the Dark Lord once and for all.
1. Prologue

_Hey there, it's I'm-a-Muppet-of-a-girl, just mentioning that I do not own Harry Potter, as much as I would like to, and I'm required to say, "I, I'm-a-Muppet-of-a-girl, am not nor have I ever been legally married to Fred Weasley." I hope my lawyer sees that. Stupid restraining order... (A lot of this chapter is taken directly from the Deathly Hallows)_

_Enjoy!_

Prologue

The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.

"I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

"I think," said Harry thoughtfully, staring past Dumbledore, "that I should like to move on, sir. If it's all right with you."

Dumbledore's face betrayed no surprise, no disappointment. "It's not up to me to give you permission, Harry," he said seriously. "If you wish to move on, that is your decision."

Harry was quiet for a few moments. "I think I'll board that train."

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore's voice grew more intense, his crystal blue eyes searching Harry's.

Harry nodded slowly. "This is my decision."

Dumbledore, smiling slightly, offered his arm to Harry, who took it, and together they walked off into the bright, vast unknown.

* * *

Voldemort dragged himself to his feet, shaken by the effect his own spell had had on him. There, on the ground, was the motionless form of his greatest enemy—the one person who had gotten away. He pushed Bellatrix away as she tried to grip his arm. He needed no help.

"My Lord, let me—"

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort said, the ice in his voice silencing her. "The boy…is he dead?"

No one moved.

"You." Voldemort pointed his wand at Narcissa Malfoy, a spark of light shooting from it and causing her to cry out. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa walked over to the Potter boy as if in a daze. Slowly, she knelt down beside him, reaching to feel his heartbeat. She stayed there for a few seconds, and then looked up in shock. "He's dead," she called, her voice strained.

The Death Eaters burst into savage roars and cheers. Harry Potter was dead. Voldemort had won. The Wizarding word belonged to them.

"Now," said Voldemort. "We go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No, wait… You carry him." There was laughter from the Death Eaters as Hagrid lurched forward as if he had been pushed. "Pick up your little friend, Hagrid."

Sobbing, Hagrid lifted Harry into his arms. His body was limp and it already seemed to be growing cold. Hagrid cradled Harry lovingly, looking into his pale, slack face, which was now dotted with Hagrid's own tears.

They marched as an army back toward Hogwarts, Hagrid howling his grief the entire way. Voldemort walked at the front, his head held high, invincible and unbeatable. His voice swelled so that all of the school could hear the wonderful news. "Harry Potter is dead…the battle is won. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished…Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared."

Hagrid stepped forward bearing the lifeless body of Harry Potter.

"NO!" Professor McGonagall screamed in agony. The voices of so many others joined hers—the voices of Harry's friends, supporters, people he had grown to love and who had loved him in return. Hermione threw herself into Ron's arms and sobbed. Ginny fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands.

Voldemort silenced the crowd effortlessly. "It is over!" he cried. "Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

With a choked sound, Hagrid obeyed.

Voldemort kicked Harry, rolling him onto his stomach. His face was pressed into the ground, but he made no move to turn his head—for he was truly dead.

"It is over," said Voldemort, a horrific smile spreading over his snakelike face. "And you shall all bow to me, or die."

McGonagall stepped forward, whipping out her wand. "I will not bow to a monster," she said, hatred in her eyes.

Voldemort simply looked at her, amused. "Is that so?" he hissed. He flicked his wand at her. _"Imperio!" _With a small cry, McGonagall jerked forward into a low bow, falling to her knees and pressing her face to the ground.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, tears falling from her eyes. "You're hurting her!"

"Silence," Voldemort snapped at her, and Hermione shrank against Ron.

Voldemort turned to the watching Hogwarts crowd. "I am about to demonstrate to you what will happen if you refuse to join me," he announced. He looked at McGonagall with cold, unfeeling eyes. "Stand and face me, old hag." McGonagall jerked into a standing position, her face white with pain. He pointed his wand, aiming it at her heart. "You are about to be made into an example." And he sent a jet of green light straight at her.

_I hope you like it! Please tell me if I should continue the story or not. (I honestly feel horrible right now, because only a monster would kill off McGonagall...But is she really dead? Hmm we'll see...)_

_Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 1

_Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! They warmed the little cockles of my heart._

Chapter 1

It had been almost five years since Voldemort took over. Everything was altered unrecognizably. Even the Muggle world was affected—bizarre murders, mysterious disappearances, and alarming "natural" disasters were spreading all over the world. The Muggles could think of nothing to explain away all the darkness that seemed to be occurring…but the answer was in a world they had no knowledge of.

The Wizarding world was worse off than the Muggles. The ranks of Death Eaters had expanded as more and more witches and wizards admitted defeat and joined the Dark Lord. Places such as Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were overrun with Voldemort's followers. They ransacked the stores and even opened up a few of their own, all of which sold nothing but Dark objects. No one that wasn't loyal to Voldemort was safe on the streets.

Hogwarts had been taken over by Bellatrix Lestrange herself. She had turned the school into a madhouse in little over a month. Dark Magic was practiced in every class, and students were used as the experiments. It wasn't unusual that a student was killed during a vicious dueling practice, but the rest of the world never knew about it. It wasn't as if _The Daily Prophet _could publicize things like that anymore.

It was late afternoon in Hogsmeade, a time of day when the streets and shops were usually deserted. Death Eaters liked to come out around twilight, and the rest of the village knew better than to be around when Voldemort's supporters were about. But a young woman was walking down the middle of the road, her head held high, refusing to look even the least bit frightened.

Hermione Granger pushed open the door of the Hog's Head. The second she stepped inside, she was reminded sharply of the first time the members of the DA had gathered together. She thought of the way Harry had spoken to them, how they had all looked at him in awe, and pain clenched her heart. Even after all this time, the sadness never faded.

Today, she was again here for business. The Hog's Head was almost always empty—even the Death Eaters rarely came in, for they had taken over the Three Broomsticks and much preferred it there. The greasy old bartender Hermione remembered eyed her from behind the counter.

Hermione looked around, her heart in her throat, but other than a hunched old man she was the only one in the pub. She sighed. He was late, as usual.

She settled herself down at a table, feeling uneasy. She hadn't been this close to Hogwarts since…but she couldn't even think of that horrible day. She had heard rumors about the terrible things that went on at her old school, and a part of her longed to charge through the front doors and curse every foul Death Eater that had harmed the students at Hogwarts, but she knew she couldn't do something so reckless.

The door of the pub banged open, and the bartender dropped a glass out of surprise and then swore loudly.

"Sorry," said the newcomer. Hermione had to force herself not to leap to her feet and throw herself at him. He was as tall as she remembered, his hair still violently red, his face still covered in freckles. She felt intense joy and sadness at the same time when she saw him. How long had it been since they'd last seen each other?

Ron Weasley's eyes scanned the pub. He didn't have to look far. His eyes stopped on her and she watched as his face lit up like a Christmas tree. She forced herself not to grin stupidly back at him.

"Ron," she said primly, standing and holding out her hand for him to shake. "How lovely to see you again."

He stared at her hand for a second, and she felt a stab of guilt for being so aloof. But she couldn't let her personal feelings get in the way of their business. "Er, nice to see you, too," he said dubiously, shaking her hand like it belonged to a hippogriff.

They stood awkwardly for several long seconds, with nothing to fill the silence but the angry grumbling of the bartender.

"How have—" Ron blurted out.

"You're—" Hermione said at the same time.

They both stopped and once again grew quiet, staring at each other. Hermione took every little detail of him in. She had missed him so much, and she wanted nothing more than to fling her arms around his neck and tell him so.

"You go first," said Ron self-consciously.

"You're late," she said stiffly.

Ron's ears turned pink. "Not by much," he muttered. "And what's the big deal, anyway? I don't see the rush."

"Do you want to be out on the streets when those awful Death Eaters come around?" she snapped, angry at herself for feeling so unsure around him and taking it out on him. "Because I don't want to be."

He looked startled. "Uh…"

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Sorry. I asked you to meet me here for a reason, though."

"Yeah, I was really surprised to hear from you." He ducked his head a little. "And…happy."

She kept her expression carefully neutral. "Things are getting worse," she said, as if he hadn't spoken. "More and more people are dying. You-Know-Who has been trying to take over the Muggle world as well, and we can't let that happen."

Ron plopped into a chair. "I don't see what we can do about it."

She sat down across from him, leaning forward and staring at him intently. "You know we can do something about it," she said in a low voice, glancing at the ancient man sitting a few tables down. Even though he seemed to be half deaf, a person could never be too careful when it came to Voldemort's spies.

Ron stared at her uncomprehendingly.

She lowered her voice even further. "We have to continue what we started with Harry," she whispered.

Ron looked lost.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron, the Horcruxes!" she hissed, exasperated. "We have to finish them off, and then Voldemort—"

"Don't say his name!" Ron exclaimed, a little too loudly. Hermione shushed him viciously. "Sorry, but it _was _tabooed, don't forget. But…Hermione, we can't just run off and look for Horcruxes again!"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"How could we possibly do it without Harry?" Pain flashed across Ron's face, but he tried to hide it. Hermione felt her heart ache and wanted to reach out to Ron, hold his hand, comfort him, but she kept her distance. "He was the one that could sense the Horcruxes. We have no leads…"

"We do, Ron," Hermione insisted stubbornly. "We know about the snake. She's the last one, right? All we have to do is kill her—"

"It's finally happened," Ron said incredulously. "You've gone completely mad!"

She glared. "I'm serious, Ron!"

"So am I!" he said angrily. "In case you hadn't noticed, You-Know-Who never lets that bloody snake out of his sight—how are we supposed to get close to it without getting close to him?"

Hermione looked at him meaningfully and the blood drained from his face.

"No," he gasped. "No way! We are _not _getting anywhere near that lunatic—"

"How can we stop him if we hide from him all our lives?" she cried in frustration. "Why won't you help me?"

"Why do you want my help anyway?" he snapped. "Five years, Hermione, five years of no contact, never answering my owls, pretending that I don't exist—and now you just decide to bring me back into the picture because you think I can help you!"

It stung to hear him say something like that. As soon as Hermione had decided that something had to be done about Voldemort—she had made the decision after watching Death Eaters torture an eleven-year-old girl for being Muggle-born—the only person she could imagine working with was Ron. She had missed him desperately every day they were apart, but she'd had so much to do, being a very active member in the Order of the Phoenix. There hadn't been time for relationships. But if she got him to help her now, she truly believed that they could do this.

"Ron, please," she said quietly, glancing at the old man again. "You never know who's listening."

Ron lowered his voice, but he was still furious. "Give me one good reason why I should help you," he growled.

"Think of Fred, Ron," she answered softly. "And Charlie." Charlie had been killed two years earlier by a group of Death Eaters. She almost regretted her mentioning of his brothers as she watched the pain appear in Ron's eyes, but if it would convince him to join her… "How many more people have to die like that before Vol—before You-Know-Who is stopped?"

Ron stared at his lap and didn't say anything for a long time. Hermione let him sit in silence. She didn't know what he was thinking, but she could only hope that he was considering helping her.

When he looked up, there was a steeliness in his eyes she didn't think she'd ever seen before. "All right," he said grimly. "I'll help you. But we can't do it alone."

She felt her heart swoop with joy. He was going to help her! Then his last words registered and her excitement dimmed a little. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly.

A small smile appeared on Ron's lips. "I think it's time we had a little reunion with a few old friends."


	3. Chapter 2

_Shall I disclaim my ownership of HP again? I think I shall. I _still _don't own Harry Potter, and unfortunately for me, I never will…_

Chapter 2

"Ron, slow down!" Hermione protested, scurrying to keep up with him as he walked down the street. His legs were much longer than hers, and his strides carried him farther. "Can't we talk about this?"

"No," he answered.

"This is ridiculous! We can't just go marching off to find help—"

Ron stopped suddenly and wheeled around to face her. "And why can't we?" he asked, his voice calm. "Isn't that exactly what you did when you came to find me?"

Hermione's face turned pink. "I didn't go to find you, I asked you to meet me," she said hotly. "And this is entirely different! We have experience with Horcruxes. We can't just drag people into this! They could get hurt."

"So it doesn't matter if I get hurt?" Ron said bitterly.

Hermione sighed. "You know that isn't what I meant."

"So you won't get help from anyone else? You want us to do it alone?"

Hermione, hopeful that he was finally giving in, nodded.

He turned away again. "That's just like you, Hermione. Always wanting all the glory for yourself."

"I'm not like that at all!" she exclaimed, hurt. "Ron, this has nothing to do with me. But I know exactly who you want to bring along, and I can't…" She paused and shook her head. "I can't watch them die," she whispered.

Ron's fast pace slowed. He kept his back to Hermione. "We're the ones who are going to be dead if we don't find them, Hermione," he said quietly.

Hermione felt like she had lost control. She had expected to convince Ron to help her, and then they would both set off on their mission together, just the two of them. A guilty little part of her was hoping that they could grow as close as they had once been, even though the rest of her knew that they had to concentrate on their work, and nothing else. But now here he was, acting like he was going to go and drag their old friends into this mess, with or without her help.

"You would put your friends in danger like that?" she said sharply.

"They would want to help," Ron insisted, beginning to grow angry.

"That doesn't matter! I won't be responsible for their deaths." Hermione planted her feet, crossed her arms, and huffed angrily, refusing to be budged.

Ron stood still for a moment, and then he said, using that same calm tone of voice, "I reckon you'll have to do it without me, then."

Hermione was taken off guard. "What?" she squeaked. "But you already promised—"

"I don't remember promising anything," he interrupted testily. "I won't go on a suicide mission with you."

Hermione felt as if she had been slapped. There was a time she had believed Ron would follow her to the ends of the earth, and she would do the same for him…but now, everything had changed.

"We wouldn't even know where to begin to look for them," she protested, quickly changing strategy. "I haven't heard anything from Luna in ages, and Neville—"

"I know where Neville is," Ron said suddenly. Hermione grabbed his arm and spun him to face her, shocked.

"You know?" she demanded. "But I thought he disappeared…"

Ron had an odd expression on his face. "So you don't know." There was coldness in his voice. "I guess you just couldn't be bothered to find out if he was okay."

"Don't you dare act like I don't care!" Hermione shouted. "No one has seen him since he tried to stand up to Voldemort after he killed McGonagall!"

"Don't say his name," Ron snapped. "And Neville isn't dead, if that's what you're thinking."

Hermione stared at him, eyes wide. "You've seen him?"

"No, but I know where he is," Ron said gravely. He took a deep breath and Hermione suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to hear his next words. "He's been locked up in Azkaban for the last five years."

Hermione stumbled back a step, shaking her head mechanically. "No," she said. "Not Neville…"

"And the dementors have free reign now," Ron went on flatly, as if he hadn't noticed her horror. "They can do whatever they like with the prisoners—kill them, torture them, simply feed on their happiness, kiss them…" Hermione shuddered, hating the image of Neville suffering through the Dementor's Kiss.

"How did you find out?" Hermione asked, voice shaking.

"Even though my dad doesn't work for the Ministry anymore, he still has a lot of connections," he said heavily. "Turns out there are a lot of people locked up in Azkaban that don't deserve it. And all of those who _do _deserve it are running around as they please."

Hermione felt her rage at Voldemort and everything he had done to the world flare up. He was harming decent people and ruining all that was good.

"How do we know he's still alive?" Hermione asked, feeling on the verge of tears.

"We don't," Ron admitted. There was a hard look in his eyes that made Hermione uneasy. "But we're going to find out."

"What are you talking about?"

"We have to go to Azkaban."

"That's crazy!" Hermione cried. "They'll throw us in a cell as soon as they see us! We're on their list, Ron—you're the blood traitor and I'm the Mudblood."

"Don't call yourself that," he said fiercely. "And if we're careful, they won't catch us."

"You want to _break in?" _she said in disbelief.

"No," he said, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But we won't be going as ourselves."

For a moment, Hermione was confused. And then she got it.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking. "Polyjuice potion?"

"The one and only!" Ron's smile widened. "It'll be just like old times."

Hermione half-smiled. "Remember when you and Harry turned into Crabbe and Goyle?"

"I feel sorry for that bloke," Ron said, shaking his head. "He had to see that mug of his in the mirror every single day. At least I only had to endure it for a few hours."

Hermione laughed softly, but it sounded more like a choked sob. "Ron, I miss him so much," she whispered.

"What, Crabbe?" Ron said, trying to keep the mood light, but Hermione saw the sorrow in his eyes. He sighed. "I miss him too. Every day."

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, and for one heartbeat Hermione thought—and hoped—that Ron would put his arms around her and reassure her, tell her that everything was going to be all right. But he just looked away, breaking the moment, and she pushed back her tears.

"Right," Hermione said, trying to compose herself. "We're going to need some Polyjuice, then."

Ron looked at her in amazement. "You'll do it?"

"I'm not promising that I'll let Neville help us hunt for the Horcruxes," she warned, "but I won't let him stay in Azkaban."

Ron's mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile. "That's the Hermione I remember," he said, and she felt as if her heart was flying.

"Let's go find some Polyjuice," she said, and she smiled for what felt like the first time in five years.


	4. Chapter 3

_I really can't tell you how much I appreciate your reviews. If you've got the time, I'd love to hear some more feedback! I'd also love to own a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but we know that's not going to happen… Everyone knows they're mythical! My hippogriff told me so. _

Chapter 3

Hermione stood beside Ron in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, staring up at the broken, vandalized sign of the shop. She peeked at Ron's expression, and she ached for the sadness in his eyes.

"I used to think this place would stay open forever, no matter what You-Know-Who did." He shook his head. "But without Fred…" He broke off, unable to finish.

Hermione automatically reached for his hand, but pulled back at the last second. She cleared her throat nervously. "You said George still lives here?" she asked.

"Yeah. He's 'undercover for the Order.'" Ron snorted. "Which means he's secretly selling his merchandise under the Death Eaters' noses."

Hermione, who had always disapproved of the Weasley twins' products, felt strangely proud when she thought of George continuing on his business, even though he had been banned from selling any more of his jokes and his shop had been shut down.

"Well, let's go in," she said briskly, starting forward. Ron followed her hesitantly. She glanced back at him as he hovered by the door. "What's the matter?" she demanded. "You aren't afraid of George, are you?"

"I don't know," Ron said uncertainly. "Mum said he hasn't been…the same, you know, since Fred."

"Haven't you seen him since?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Ron shrugged moodily. "A little, I guess," he muttered. "We've all been pretty busy…"

"You aren't going to hide out here," she said firmly, taking him by the arm and dragging him inside the shop.

The shop had once been so bright and lively, but now it looked more like the Shrieking Shack. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface. The buzzing, whirring, bubbling products had been cleared off the shelves, and the shop was, of course, deserted. It was eerily quiet. Hermione wasn't surprised that no one had discovered that George was living here—anyone would think that this place had been empty for years. She wasn't completely convinced that they would find Ron's brother here at all.

They walked into the middle of the room. Hermione had to dodge several piles of broken glass. She caught sight of a large spider scuttling across the floor, and opened her mouth to point it out to Ron, but then thought better of it.

"George?" Ron called softly. He looked extremely unsettled being here.

A voice spoke from behind them. "Don't. Move."

Hermione froze, and she felt Ron stiffen next to her. The voice hadn't been George's. It sounded almost like…

Hermione whipped around with a gasp. "Gin—"

Before she could even finish the word, a blast of light was sending her flying backward into the shelves.

Ron gave a shout and she heard running footsteps coming toward her. Stars danced in front of her vision, and she could already feel a lump forming on her head.

"Ouch," she winced as Ron reached her and knelt beside her.

"Oy!" he yelled angrily, rounding on Hermione's attacker. "What was—"

He stopped as he recognized who it was.

"Sorry, but I told her not to move," the girl said calmly.

"Ginny?" Ron said incredulously.

Hermione shook off the last of her dizziness and allowed Ron to help her to her feet. She studied Ginny. She looked different—harder and colder. Her beautiful, long red hair had been cut short. Her face was smudged with dirt and her robes were torn. Her expression was stony and her eyes held none of the humor and warmth they used to. She was also still pointing her wand directly at them.

Hermione didn't have to think hard to know what had caused these changes in Ginny.

"Ginny, why are you pointing that thing at us?" Ron demanded, sounding indignant. "And why did you blast Hermione across the bloody room?"

"You never know who's a spy for You-Know-Who these days," Ginny replied in an offhand voice. "I can't be too careful."

Ron looked confused. "But…"

Hermione interrupted. "We're sorry to bother you," she said, glancing warningly at Ron as he tried to speak again. "All we need is to speak with George."

Ginny hesitated, and then said, "He isn't here."

Hermione tried not to show her irritation. "When will he be back?"

"Dunno." Ginny looked as if she wouldn't tell them whether she knew or not.

"Thanks for the help," Hermione muttered, brushing the dust off of her robes.

Ron was still staring at Ginny as if he didn't recognize her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm working," she said in a hard voice.

"Working? For _George_?"

"He's doing something useful, unlike everyone else in our family," said Ginny harshly. "Mum and Dad sit around moaning over Fred and Charlie, Bill's run off with Fleur, and Percy…he's obviously no help at all. And you." She glared at Ron. "What have you been doing all this time? Skipping rope?"

Ron's face reddened. "What's gotten into you?" he demanded angrily. "And for your information, Hermione and I are going after the last Horcrux!"

Hermione put her hands over her face and groaned.

Instantly, Ginny's interest showed. "Is that true?" she asked, her gaze darting to Hermione.

Hermione shot Ron a furious look before nodding.

Ginny slowly lowered her wand. "Is that why you're here?"

"We heard that George is pretty good at getting his hands on illegal things," Ron explained. "We happen to, er, acquire his skills."

Hermione was getting a bad feeling about this. Already, the hostility was leaving Ginny's eyes, and she looked…hopeful. "That's going to be difficult," Ginny said. "Taking down You-Know-Who could be next to impossible."

"We've already figured that out, thanks," Ron grumbled.

Ginny's eyes had started to shine. "But with my help, you could get it done."

Hermione opened her mouth to refuse, but to her surprise, Ron beat her to it.

"_No_!" he shouted. "Absolutely not! You're staying here!"

The hope on Ginny 's face collapsed into a scowl. "You aren't my mother," she snapped at Ron. "I can do whatever I like!"

"This is too dangerous," Ron raged. "No way are you coming with us! You could get yourself killed!"

"At least I would die trying to do something useful!" she shouted back. "Instead of sitting around here day and night, waiting for something to happen—"

"You're safe here!" Ron bellowed.

"No one is safe anywhere!" Ginny cried. "That's the problem, don't you see? If you let me help you, you'll increase your chances of succeeding!"

Ron angrily opened his mouth to shout something else, but Hermione stepped between them. She couldn't bear to see them fight like this—it wasn't like the arguments they would get into when they were young. This looked like they were ready to whip out their wands and start cursing each other.

"All right, calm down," Hermione said quickly. "Let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ginny said frostily. "I'm coming."

"No you're not," Ron snarled.

Ginny pointed her wand at him again. "Who's going to stop me?"

Ron reached for his wand, too, and that was when George Apparated into the shop.

He blinked, looking from Ginny and her wand out and ready, to Ron, his hand digging in his pocket for his own wand, to Hermione, standing helplessly between them.

"I always walk in at just the right moments," George said, grinning.


	5. Chapter 4

_Thanks for reading and reviewing, it's really encouraging! You're the best reading audience a Muppet of a girl could ask for. _

Chapter 4

George strolled right over to Ginny and plucked her wand from her hand as if picking a flower.

"_George!"_ Ginny shouted angrily.

"_George!"_ Ron exclaimed happily.

"George," Hermione said warningly.

"_George!" _George bellowed. The three of them stared at him. "What?" he demanded. "I couldn't just let you lot have all the fun, could I?"

Ron, forgetting about Ginny, strode over to George and caught him up in an unexpected hug. Hermione thought George looked startled, and rather pleased.

"All right, gerroff," George said gruffly, pushing Ron away. "Don't get all sappy on me, mate."

Ron looked a little embarrassed, as if his own reaction to George had caught him by surprise, too. "It's just been a while," he said defensively.

The smile on George's face dimmed a little. "Aye," he said gravely. "About four years, five months, and twenty-seven days, to be exact."

"You've kept track?" Hermione asked, a little impressed.

George turned to look at her, and Hermione's joy at seeing him wilted.

Like his sister, George had changed. It wasn't as physically noticeable as it was with Ginny, but there was something in his expression that unnerved Hermione. His eyes had a shadowed, haunted look, and there was a certain restless wildness with which he moved that made her think of an animal poised to flee—or attack.

"'Course I've kept track," George said airily. "Didn't think I'd forget my own family, did you?" He smiled, but like his eyes, it was a little off. His mouth grinned but his eyes remained blank.

"Give me back my wand, George," Ginny snarled, lunging at him and making a grab for her wand. George danced out of her reach and dangled it teasingly above her head.

"_George!" _Ginny yelled furiously. "It isn't funny!"

"Let's not get started with my name again, shall we?"

With a growl of frustration, Ginny aimed a punch at George's face. George ducked and darted behind Ron, pushing him forward like a shield.

"I'll give it back to you on one condition," George told her primly.

Ginny tried to round Ron to get a grab at George, but instead just ended up chasing him in circles around their brother. Poor Ron looked flustered.

"Aren't you going to help me?" he asked Hermione.

Honestly, Hermione was amused. "Come on, Ron, they're _your _siblings, aren't you going to sort it out?" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Ron scowled at her.

Ginny finally gave up trying to catch George and hissed, "Fine, then, what's your condition?"

George put his hands on Ron's shoulders and shook him. "You have to be nice to Won Won."

Ginny glowered. That was enough of an answer for Hermione.

"Just give her back her wand, George," Hermione said, beginning to grow exasperated, too.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you know her as well as I do," George told her. "The second she has it back, she'll curse you, me, and everyone else within a five-mile radius."

Hermione snorted in disbelief but Ron looked a little anxious.

"Promise you'll be good, and you can have your wand back," George sang.

Fuming, Ginny muttered something that could have been "all right" with a swear word tacked on the end of it, and it seemed good enough for George.

"Here." He tossed it toward her with such carelessness that Hermione gasped. Ginny had to practically dive for the wand to rescue it from clattering to the ground and letting off who-knows-what manor of explosions.

"Careful!" Ginny said angrily.

"Oh, come on, Gin, you've dropped your wand loads of times and it's been fine," George said with a grin. Again, Hermione noticed how his smile wasn't quite right.

Ron didn't seem to notice anything. He was smiling, too. "How have you been, George?" he asked. "Still in business?"

George winked at him. "You know it, Ronny Bear. Of course, my merchandise has changed a little since the glory days, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do." He shrugged.

He walked over to the shelves that had been broken when Ginny had thrown Hermione across the room, clucking his tongue. "What did you hooligans do to my shop?" he complained. "You see, _this _is why I highly disapprove of fighting."

Hermione couldn't remember a time she had ever heard George say he disapproved of fighting, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't understand why a few broken shelves would matter—the rest of the shop was in shambles, and this made no difference to its overall appearance.

Something he'd said suddenly registered with her mind, and she walked over to him, her suspicions rising. "George, what did you mean that your merchandise has 'changed'?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him as he studiously refused to look at her.

"Not much of a place in the world for Nosebleed Nougat anymore, is there?" George said lightly, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his voice. "If I wanted to keep on raking in the Galleons, I needed to make a few…minor adjustments."

"Like?" Hermione prompted.

George turned to her, and he was no longer smiling. "Look, Hermione," he said in a voice of forced patience, "I really don't think my business is any of your business—that's why it's _my _business, you see?"

"Aw, come on, George!" Ron said heartily. "We're family! You know I don't care what you sell. I won't tell Mum, I swear."

"I don't care what Mum knows," George answered indifferently, and Hermione didn't like how serious he sounded…or the dark look in his eyes. "She hasn't exactly bothered to keep contact with me, has she? And it really isn't your business, either, Ron, so why don't you take your little freckled nose out of my business and shove off?"

Ron looked stunned. Hermione walked over to him, taking him by the arm and pulling him aside. "There's something wrong with him," she whispered. "Don't you see it in his eyes?"

"He's fine," Ron insisted, even though he had been the one to say that he'd heard George "wasn't quite right" in the first place. "He just isn't used to having company, that's all."

Ginny, to Hermione's annoyance, was eavesdropping on the conversation and decided to interject. "He's a nutter," she said with a shrug. "Without Fred, it's like he's lost his way."

They all turned to look at George, who was humming tunelessly to himself as he got down on his hands and knees and tried to fit the pieces of the shelf back together.

"Why doesn't he just use his wand to fix it?" said Ron in an odd voice.

"I hid his wand," Ginny said quietly.

Hermione and Ron whipped around to look at her.

"_What?" _Ron exclaimed.

"Shhh," Ginny hissed, pinching him hard. He yelped and rubbed his arm resentfully. "He can't know, all right?"

"I think you're a little old to be playing these sort of games, Ginny," Hermione whispered angrily. "I mean, we expect it from George, but from you—"

"You don't understand," Ginny snapped. "He isn't safe with it. He's hurt others and even himself in the past. I can't trust him with it anymore."

Hermione felt as if her heart had dropped into her stomach. It hurt to hear how much George was suffering without his family—especially his twin.

"So," George said loudly, standing up suddenly and making the three of them jump. "What brings my favorite brother and his girlfriend to my lowly shop?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," Hermione said quickly, and then felt her face burn as she realized George had only been joking.

He grinned at her. "We'll see."

"Actually, we came here to ask you to do something for us," Ron admitted, and Hermione would have liked to pinch him, herself. There could have been a kinder way to say it. She could already see something hardening in George's expression.

"Should've guessed," George said with a bitter smile. "Seems like everyone wants favors from the wonderful George Weasley nowadays." He bowed to them with a flourish. "Your wish is my command."

Ron looked uncertain, but he continued. "We need Polyjuice potion."

George straightened up, his face serious. "Polyjuice doesn't exist anymore," he said coolly. "At least, not on our side. The Death Eaters have taken it all, and enough ingredients to make more if need be. Can't say I blame 'em, with the faces some of them have got. I'd like a break every now and again, too."

"George, please," Hermione said in a soothing voice. "We didn't mean to offend you. We came to see you, as well, not just for the Polyjuice—"

"Nice try, Hermione, but I'm not a bloody fool," George said with another slightly twisted smile. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of you—or anyone else in our blasted family, for that matter—in four years, five months, and twenty-seven days. You wouldn't just drop by for a friendly chat out of the blue like this."

"We didn't know where you were," Hermione insisted. She glanced pleadingly at Ron, but he didn't look as if he was going to be of any help.

"Don't be an idiot, George," Ginny said scathingly, to Hermione's surprise. "We all know you're capable of getting your grimy little hands on as much Polyjuice as you please, so stop with the games and give them what they want."

George tipped his head to the side, studying them. After a long pause, he said, "I don't have any. But I know where you can find some."

"Where?" Hermione and Ron said at the same time.

George smiled grimly. "A sunny little place called Nocturn Alley."


	6. Chapter 5

_From now on I'll be starting chapters with a quote from the books that in some way, shape, or form relates to the chapter I'm writing... Though expect that most of the time the quotes won't be half as clever as I think they are._

"_Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno…Dodgy place, Harry…don' wan' no one to see yeh down there…"~Hagrid _

Chapter 5

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Hermione said for what must have been the tenth time.

George looked back at her with a wry smile. "If you have any better ideas, Hermione, I would _love _to hear them."

Hermione scowled, but she didn't have anything to say to that. As much as she detested Knockturn Alley—and as dangerous as it was—she couldn't think of another option to going there. George claimed that he had "associates" there that could sell them whatever they needed. Hermione did not like the sound of that one bit. But where else would they get Polyjuice?

"We'd better hurry," Ginny added. "It's getting late. Soon the Death Eaters will be swarming the streets…especially Knockturn Alley."

Ron just shot her a glower. He was not happy that she was coming with. Hermione knew he was just worried about his sister, but he had a way of channeling his anxiety into grouchiness.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Ginny," George said nastily.

"George, don't," Hermione warned. She had already deduced that it didn't take much to get either of them going these days.

George just shrugged and pulled ahead of the others.

After turning down several close alleyways, Hermione noticed that their surroundings were turning darker and filthier. A chill ran down her spine as she heard ragged breathing from a dank corner of the alley. She quickly averted her eyes and moved a little closer to Ron.

"Stick close, everyone," George said briskly. Hermione wondered how he could possibly look so comfortable here. "Don't want to be jumped from behind and robbed blind, now do we?" Hermione stared at him in alarm but he didn't seem to notice.

"Ron, are you sure this is a good idea?" she breathed shakily in his ear.

She was surprised when he reached up and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "We can trust George," he whispered back, but she wasn't so sure.

The narrow alleyways widened into a cracked, unattractive street. It appeared to be deserted, but Hermione wasn't taking any chances. She slipped her hand into her robes and clutched her wand tightly. Shadows slipped along the edges of the broken-down shops, and she wondered how many of them were Death Eaters, waiting to pounce…

George finally seemed to notice the others' discomfort. "Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said, his loud voice echoing around the stone streets. "No one's going to hurt us."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but instead let out a little shriek as she felt something grab onto the bottom of her robes. She whipped around and saw a filthy old woman clutching her, eyes wide and mad. "A sickle for the starving?" she rasped.

Out of pity, Hermione automatically reached into her pocket to retrieve a sickle or two, but George's hand caught her wrist, stopping her. She looked up in surprise at his stony expression.

"Don't," he said grimly, "_ever_ give anyone any of your possessions."

"Why not?" Hermione demanded, casting a look at the poor woman.

"You never know who's a spy for You-Know-Who these days," George answered seriously, reminding Hermione of what Ginny had said when they'd first seen each other in George's shop. "And there are ways for a person to track you using something you've recently owned—including sickles." He looked pointedly at her hand, still hovering near her pocket, and she let it drop limply to her side.

She wanted to at least apologize to the woman, but Ron tugged her away. A glance over her shoulder showed that the old woman had vanished.

"Here we are," George said jovially, and Hermione was rather relieved to be getting off the streets. More and more shadowy people were melting out of the stores, eyeing them and their relatively non-shabby appearance. But when Hermione saw the name of the shop, her heart dropped.

"You're mad," she hissed at George as he confidently walked into the store. Ginny followed him, looking bored, while Ron edged in after her uneasily. "Why on earth would anyone help us _here?" _

They were now standing inside the old, dusty, creepy shop of Borgin and Burke's. Hermione thought back to the time she had followed Malfoy here to spy on him with Ron and Harry. It was like having strong déjà vu…except that Harry wasn't with them this time. She felt that familiar sadness settle into her heart.

It looked pretty much the same as before, if not dustier and grimier and creepier. Hermione spotted a shrunken head hanging from a shelf and her stomach clenched. "George," she said, a little more desperately this time. "Why are we here?"

"You'd think Borgin was big on You-Know-Who's side," George said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "But if you offer the right price, he'll help you…or, at least, overlook the business you're doing with his employees. In this case, we are looking for a very specific employee of his. I think you'll recognize him."

Hermione shared a nervous glance with Ron. She had no idea what to expect with George. She wouldn't be all that surprised if this "recognizable employee" was Voldemort himself.

George strode right up to the counter and hollered into the back room, "Oi! Bat in the swamp!"

Hermione and Ron looked to Ginny, mystified. She shrugged and said, "He has his stupid little passwords with everyone. I suppose 'bat in the swamp' must mean that he wants to do business with whoever works here."

"You don't know who we're here to talk to?" Ron demanded.

Ginny gave him a frosty look. She still hadn't forgiven him for their earlier argument. "George doesn't include many people in his business affairs. Consider yourself lucky he even brought you at all."

George slammed his fist impatiently on the counter and yelled again. "_Oi!" _

There was a crashing sound, like someone had just fallen over a stack of boxes, and then a string of curses and grumbling poured out of the back room. A figure stumbled into sight, crossly brushing dust off of his robes.

"Dung!" Ron cried, sounding surprised and a little pleased.

Mundungus Fletcher stood in front of them, his scowl lightening into a gap-toothed grin as he looked past George at Ron and Hermione. "Look'ee 'ere!" he crowed. "Knew I'd see you two again sometime." To Hermione, he looked mostly the same. He had a few gray hairs in the ginger mop on his head, but other than that, he still looked like he had a horrible hangover and his robes were patched and worn.

Then his eyes shifted to Ginny. Hermione did not like the look on his face at all. "Thought you were gonna stay away from now on, love," he said with a coy wink.

To Hermione's astonishment, Ginny smiled back rather flirtatiously. "You know I can't bear to be away from _you, _Dung."

Dung grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Stay, then."

"All right!" Ron said loudly, shooting angry glances between them. "I think that's enough of that rubbish!"

Ginny's defenses instantly sprang back up. "We were only joking around, Ron! You can't tell me what to-"

"Anyway, back to business," George interrupted, rubbing his hands together. "Got a favor to call in, Dung."

Mundungus glowered again. "Didn't I tell ya that I'm not open to yer business anymore?" he snapped. "I've risked my bloody neck one too many times for you, Weasley."

George continued to look calm. "I do seem to recall getting you out of a rather tight situation with a certain Snatcher, don't you? Or perhaps all of that rum has fogged your memory."

Dung's face reddened. "All righ'," he said roughly. "What do ya want this time?"

George didn't miss a beat. "Polyjuice potion."

Dung's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. "Poly—" he choked, unable to finish. "Are you bloomin' mad? Do you know 'ow rare that stuff is?"

"You sell it here," George said. "I've seen it. Or is your market only open to Death Eaters now?" He eyed Mundungus with deep disdain. "Mad-Eye would be so disappointed...if he were alive, that is."

Hermione watched Dung's face pale. She had never known whether he'd felt any guilt over abandoning Mad-Eye Moody to be killed by the Death Eaters when they attempted to move Harry…the look on his face told her that it haunted him.

"Fine," he snarled, shooting George a look full of loathing. "But it's the last time, Weasley, I swear it."

George just looked at him calmly.

Muttering to himself, Dung lumbered into the back room again. Hermione heard more curses and grumbling as he rummaged around for what he wanted. A few minutes later he reappeared, carefully holding a glass vial.

"There," he grunted, thrusting it unceremoniously at George. "Pay up."

George looked at him in what was obviously surprise, but Hermione saw the hint of a smirk on his face. "Why, Dung!" he exclaimed. "I thought we were both under the impression that my payment would be calling our debts even?"

Dung's face turned red. "No," he said angrily. "No, you gotta pay! D'you know 'ow much that stuff is worth? I can't bloody well give it away!"

"Want me to turn you in to the Snatchers, Dung?" There was a dangerous note in George's voice. "You know I'll do it. Either call our debt even, or…" He shrugged, letting Dung figure out the rest.

Dung looked like he had never hated anyone more in his life. "Last time, Weasley," he hissed again. "Better watch where you step." He disappeared into the back room. Hermione suspected he was going straight for his stash of alcohol.

George snorted like it was all some big joke. "That Dung," he said fondly.

"That was kind of dishonest, George," Ron said, sounding unsettled.

George pretended to look insulted. "Dishonest? Me? You must be confusing me with someone else! He owes me. Consider his debt repaid."

Hermione pursed her lips but she didn't add anything. What was the point? George obviously thought he was in the right, and she didn't think anything she said would change his mind.

They left the shop, George slipping the Polyjuice into his robes. Hermione noticed with a thrill of anxiety that the sun had set, throwing the streets of Knockturn Alley into twilight.

"George—" she began, but that was all she had time to say.

"Well, well," a mocking voice said behind them. They all stopped in their tracks. "Looks to me like the four of you aren't s'posed to be out after dark—won't your mummies be worried?"

Hermione gripped Ron's arm hard and forced herself to look. Blocking their escape were five Death Eaters, all with their wands out and aimed at Hermione and the others, prepared to strike.


	7. Chapter 6

"_Get up, Avery. Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you." ~Voldemort, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

Chapter 6

Ron instantly started pushing Hermione behind him, wand raised and a fierce, determined expression crossing his face. Hermione's first instinct was to scold him for thinking she couldn't handle herself, but this was most certainly not the time for that. So she merely sidestepped him and whipped out her own wand, ready to defend…or attack.

A soft laugh came from beneath the mask of the Death Eater that had first spoken. He took a lazy step forward, and then another, as if he had no fear whatsoever that the four people he had cornered could harm him at all.

"Look at you, so ready to fight us," he said in a voice that was almost fond—and was vaguely familiar. "As if you could ever win."

"I'll blast you through the alley if you don't back up, mate," George said in a calm but hard voice, brandishing his wand as well.

Hermione saw the eyes of the Death Eater through the slits in his mask as he gazed at George's threatening wand. Then, she could have sworn she saw them crinkle into a cold, amused smile. "I really can't help but commend your bravery," he said. "But I'm afraid that I have no choice but to bring you in to the Dark Lord."

Hermione felt a current of shock run through her, and sensed her companions stiffen beside her. Why would these Death Eaters want to take them directly to Voldemort? As far as she could tell, all of them were indeed Death Eaters, and not greedy Snatchers. It would be much more efficient to just kill their victims instead of dragging them back to their leader.

"I know what you're thinking," the head Death Eater said softly. Hermione was aware of his companions steadily closing in. "Why should we bother bringing you back to the Dark Lord? Have you forgotten who you are?"

"Only after a strong drink," George replied cheerfully. Ginny shot him a frustrated look, and Hermione shared her feelings. This was not a time for jokes.

The Death Eater ignored George's comment. "You are the close friends of one Harry James Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Well…until he died, that is," he said, a nasty note entering his voice.

Hermione bristled and had to hold herself back from cursing the insolent Death Eater until her wand ran out of magic. She didn't dare take her eyes off of their enemies to look at Ron, but she could feel him trembling with rage next to her.

"The Dark Lord would be very pleased with me if I were to bring you back," the Death Eater whispered, coming so close that Hermione could have prodded him with her wand if she'd had half a mind to. "He might even…" An odd tone entered his voice. "Forgive me."

One of the other Death Eaters barked a laugh. Hermione started; she had almost forgotten the others were there. She noticed with unease that they had advanced on them, and they were now trapped in a ring of Voldemort's supporters. "Forgive _you, _Avery? How many times have you failed the Dark Lord?"

Hermione knew that name. Yes, she remembered him as one of Voldemort's followers. She watched his eyes darken with anger as he turned on the other Death Eater.

"I have never failed him," Avery snarled, now pointing his wand at his companion. "I was not the only one who deserted him when he first fell. Did you go to find him, Rowle? I think not."

Hermione slowly brought her lips to Ron's ear and breathed, "We have to get out of here."

Ron gave a barely perceptible nod but continued watching the argument unfolding between the Death Eaters closely.

"Only five more years of service," Avery whispered, a hungry note in his voice. "Five more, and I will be free."

"You will never be free," Hermione found herself saying.

Avery, whose attention had been momentarily diverted from his victims, swung around to fix Hermione with a hate-filled stare. "Did I say you could speak, filthy Mudblood?"

Ron snarled and took a step forward, but Hermione gripped his arm and squeezed. The time wasn't right yet. "You say you will be free of Voldemort's service in five years," Hermione went on, trying to sound as calm as possible. "But he will never let you—"

Avery lunged forward with astonishing speed, grabbing a fistful of Hermione's hair and wrenching her head back. "_You have no right to say his name," _he hissed, eyes blazing beneath the skull mask.

"Take your hands off her!" Ron bellowed. "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Avery was ready. He released Hermione and turned on Ron, roaring, "_Protego!"_ Ron's spell bounced back and hit him instead. Hermione watched in horror as he went rigid and fell to the ground.

Too late for a genius surprise attack. George and Ginny had already jumped into action. George was dueling Rowle and another Death Eater, while Ginny handled another. That left Hermione facing Avery and the fifth Death Eater, with a very stiff Ron lying on the ground beside her.

Avery sent another spell at her, which she easily blocked. She spun around and pointed her wand at Ron, shouting, "_Relashio!"_ Ron sprang back into life, leaping to his feet and all but tackling Avery to the ground.

Figuring that Ron could handle himself, Hermione turned her attention to the other Death Eater. The look in his eyes was nothing short of gleeful. He was _enjoying _this. Hermione felt a flood of anger and before she had even consciously made the decision, she was crying, "_Stupefy!" _The spell was cast with such force that the Death Eater flew back, hit the wall, and slumped to the ground, effectively Stunned.

Hermione whirled around. Ginny was holding her own against her opponent, but George was having difficulty fighting two Death Eaters at once. He had just blocked the curse of one when Rowle raised his wand to hex his undefended back.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Hermione cried, and Rowle's wand went flying. He took one look at her and her wand pointing menacingly at his face and made a mad dash for his wand. Hermione sent Stunning spell after Stunning spell at him, but he rolled and dodged with such agility that he managed to reach his wand before she hit him.

He scooped it up and sent a jet of green light at her. Hermione threw herself out of the way and it exploded into the wall behind her, leaving a small crater behind. She had just enough time to raise her wand and block the next Killing Curse he sent her way. "_Stupefy!" _she shouted, but he blocked it with ease. He was slowly advancing on her, blocking every spell she sent his way and getting in plenty of his own. Hermione began to feel overwhelmed. She could still hear the sounds of her friends fighting, but what if someone was hurt?

Then she heard a scream—definitely a woman's. _Ginny. _With a rush of panic, Hermione bellowed, "_Locomotor Mortis!" _Rowle's eyes widened in surprise as she sent the spell at him. His legs sprang together as if bound by invisible ropes and he toppled over.

Hermione didn't give him a second glance. She skirted his body and ran farther down the alley, where Ginny's duel had carried her.

Ginny was on the ground, twisting and writhing in pain but refusing to scream again. Her attacker stood over her, de-masked and with a bloody face. His eyes were filled with mad fire and he was pointing his wand at her fiercely. Hermione knew exactly what he was doing.

"_Stupefy!" _she screamed, throwing all of the magic she could into the curse. The Death Eater turned at the sound of her voice and got the spell full in the face. He crumpled to the ground, his wand skittering out of his hand and across the road. Hermione ran to Ginny's side, her heart pounding with fear.

Ginny was panting, sweat beading on her forehead. "Ginny?" Hermione said urgently, touching her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Ginny turned her head so that Hermione could see her face. There was still pain in her eyes, but the rest of her expression was indignant. "He used the Cruciatus Curse on me!" she raged, hauling herself to her feet and ignoring Hermione's protests. "I'm getting bloody sick of these idiotic Death Eaters." She started to run back to where the rest of the fight was going, then stopped, turned to her Stunned attacker, and casually flicked her wand at him. "_Furnunculus."_ Boils sprang up all over his body. Hermione wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified. Ginny raced off to join the others, and Hermione followed, with a last look at the boil-covered Death Eater.

She was just in time to see George knock out the fourth Death Eater. That just left one. Avery.

She heard Ron's voice shout her name. "_Hermione!" _She started to turn, confused, but not fast enough.

Hermione was face to face with Avery, looming over her, already forming the words that would take her life away. "_Avad—"_

For the second time, Ron raced forward and lunged at Avery, tackling him right to the ground. Hermione stumbled backward, stunned by what had almost just happened. In her shock she tripped over her own feet; Ginny caught her before she could fall.

Hermione recovered, leaping back on high alert, wand poised to fire, only to find a terrible scene facing her. Ron was backed up against the wall of the alley, face white, and Avery stood over him. Hermione didn't even have time to draw the breath to scream Ron's name before Avery was roaring, "_Avada Kedavra!" _

_Don't you just love cliff hangers? I happen to hate them...So this is me just being cruel. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it, please review! Thanks!_


	8. Chapter 7

"_All's fair in love and war, and this is a bit of both" ~Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

Chapter 7

"_No!" _George bellowed, and he sprang. He collided with Avery an instant before the jet of green light shot from the tip of his wand. They both went down and George threw his wand aside, not even bothering with magic, and began to punch Avery in the face with all his might.

Hermione stumbled to Ron's side, kneeling beside him. His face was white and he was staring at nothing. She was sitting close enough to him that she could feel him trembling.

"Ron?" Her voice broke. "Are you…you aren't hurt, are you?"

He tore away from his trance and his eyes met hers. Something fluttered in Hermione's chest, and a dozen emotions rushed through her. Sadness. Regret. Longing.

"George!" she heard Ginny shout, and she whipped around.

A chill of horror ran through her at what she saw.

George had abandoned striking his victim and now had both hands wrapped around Avery's throat, squeezing. His eyes looked mad. Hermione was frozen for a moment, her shock overtaking her. She realized George was saying something, his voice shaking with rage.

"You will not take another of my brothers," he gasped. "You killed him. You killed Fred. He was the world to me. Do you hear me? _He was the world!" _His voice rose to a shout at the end.

"Didn't…kill…" Avery choked, eyes bulging and hands trying to tear George's hands away from his throat without success.

"George!" Ginny screamed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hauling backward with all her might. "George, it wasn't him! It was someone else!" Without seeming to realize what he was doing, George reached out with one hand and shoved her away, hard. Ginny was thrown heavily to the ground.

"George!" Ron staggered unsteadily to his feet, still shaken from his near-death experience. He gripped George's shoulders and wrenched his brother around so hard that George's grasp on Avery's neck was broken. Ron grabbed his brother by the face, forcing him to look at him.

"You're killing him," Ron said urgently. The mad fire was still blazing in George's eyes, his body twitching as he tried to fight Ron off so that he could return to his prey. Ron shook him. "George. Are you listening? _You are killing him_."

Slowly, the savage look on George's face faded. The wild light died from his eyes. His hands went limp in his lap. He stared at Ron—no, Hermione decided, he was staring through Ron, as if he had turned invisible.

"I'm no better than they are," George murmured numbly. Hermione was stunned to see tears running down his freckled face.

Ron pulled George to him and hugged him hard. Hermione felt a lump rising in her throat. She glanced at Ginny in time to see a lone tear slip down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away.

For a moment, George let Ron embrace him, hiding his face in his brother's shoulder. But then strength seemed to return to him, and he shoved Ron back and got clumsily to his feet. "Without Fred, I'm nothing," he said, that same numb tone still in his voice. "I'm worse than nothing. I'm a monster."

"Don't say that," Ginny cried, coming forward. The look he gave her caused Hermione to step forward and grab Ginny's arm, holding her back. George was not safe anymore. Losing his twin—his other half—had torn him to shreds. He was a shell of the person he once was.

George looked at the three of them, and there was something in his eyes that made Hermione shiver. Deep sorrow, grief, anger, pain, and self-loathing. He took one step back, and then another.

"I have to go," he said mechanically. Then he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

"George!" Ginny shouted, breaking free of Hermione and running to the place he had last stood. She turned in a frantic circle, fruitlessly searching.

"He's gone, Ginny," Ron said. His voice was hard.

"He can't be." Her voice trembled. Hermione hadn't seen her this vulnerable since they were children. "He promised he would stay with me. I…I don't have anyone now." She hugged her arms around herself, and Hermione was sharply reminded of the young girl she had once been—still fierce, still a fighter, but with a soft side that Hermione had begun to think had vanished over the past five years.

Hermione slowly approached Ginny. She wasn't sure if this was a good idea, or whether Ginny would just push her away, but she couldn't bear watching her friend's pain. She stopped in front of her, hesitated. Ginny looked up, her eyes full of sadness and loss and fear.

"You have us," Hermione said solemnly, and she put her arms around the other girl and held her close.

For a moment Ginny stiffened, as if unused to this sort of contact. But then she relaxed and her arms fiercely hugged Hermione back. Hermione held her for a few more seconds and then stepped back, looking to Ron.

His face was serious. He wasn't looking at Ginny, but at Hermione, as if he knew what she would say next.

"We have to take her with us, Ron," Hermione said quietly. To her surprise and relief, Ron just nodded.

Ginny discreetly wiped her eyes on her sleeves. "You'll let me come?"

"Yes," said Ron stiffly. "But try not to get yourself killed, all right?" A look of dismay crossed his face. "If you do, I'm the one that will have to deal with Mum. She'll blame me for this, don't you doubt it."

Ginny gave a watery smile. "I suppose that's the worst part of my death? Mum's reaction?"

Ron gave her an incredulous look. "You're joking, right?"

"All right, we can't waste any more time," Hermione said, stepping up before they could get into another row. "We have to find some hairs for the…the potion!" She gasped in dismay. "George had it!"

Ron groaned. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. Now what are we going to do? This whole trip was a complete waste of time!"

"Don't be so sure," Ginny said with a grin. She brandished the bottle of Polyjuice from the folds of her robes.

Ron gaped. "How did you manage that?"

"I'm an expert at pick pocketing," said Ginny proudly.

"Well." Hermione shared a startled look with Ron. "I guess that's…something."

"It's useful," Ginny corrected. "I told you that you would need me on this mission. What are we doing, anyway?" she asked curiously.

Hermione tried to still the fast beating of her heart. George's disturbing departure was on her mind, as well as the monumental task they had ahead of them, but she had to focus. She could not give up now. "We're going to break Neville out of Azkaban."

She wasn't sure what kind of reaction she expected from Ginny—shock? Horror? Disbelief? Scorn?

But instead Ginny just grinned and said, "It's about bloody time."

* * *

_Just wanted to mention that I'm so thankful to all my wonderful readers, and your reviews. I promised myself I wouldn't cry...And can I just say that I do hope you don't form an angry mob about George after this chapter. Don't worry, you haven't seen the last of him... _


	9. Chapter 8

_"Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"_ ~_Stan Shunpike, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban _

Chapter 8

"Right. We're breaking into Azkaban. Right."

Hermione paced in circles, the wheels in her head spinning like mad. It was one thing talking about something as monumental as breaking into the supposedly unassailable Wizarding prison, and an entirely different thing to actually accomplish it.

"Relax, Hermione," Ron said, although he looked plenty on edge, himself. "If Sirius could do it, we can, too."

Hermione shook her head, agitated. "That was a different. He's an Animagus, Ron. We don't have the time to learn that sort of magic."

Ron looked hopefully at Ginny. "You haven't added turning into an animal to your list of skills, have you?"

Ginny only rolled her eyes.

Hermione raked her fingers through her bushy hair, trying to force her mind to come up with the perfect solution. They had the Polyjuice potion. All they had to do was turn into someone that had access to the prison, find Neville, and then…what? Walk out with one of the prisoners? Someone was bound to notice something suspicious going on.

"You know what I think?" Ginny spoke up from where she was leaning against a withered, blackened tree, most likely affected by the presence of many, many dementors. They had Apparated to the skirts of the prison just after they had agreed to let Ginny accompany them. Hermione was beginning to wish they had stayed back in Diagon Alley, if only so that she could think away from the joy-sucking dementors.

"No one wants to know what you think." Ron's voice was gruff. Hermione suspected he still wasn't happy about Ginny coming with, not at all, and she was no longer sure if it was entirely due to the fact that he was worried about her. It seemed like his sister was beginning to get on his nerves.

Ginny ignored Ron. "I think we should just go," she declared.

Hermione stopped dead in her pacing and stared at her. "S-sorry?"

"You heard me." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "We're wasting time, trying to come up with a plan. And we all know that no plan will be good enough for you, Hermione. You'll agonize over it until it's been another five years and Neville's pushing up daisies." Hermione flinched. She hated thinking about losing any more friends than she already had.

"So your plan," began Ron slowly, "is to charge in there without thinking? Right now?"

"No," said Ginny scornfully. "But we should get on with it. Nick some hairs from a few sorry blokes, knock them out, throw them aside, and get it over with."

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. "That would be suicide," she said carefully, trying to contain her composure.

"The way I see it, a million things can go wrong no matter what kind of plan we imagine," Ginny said indifferently. Hermione couldn't believe how calm she was being. "What makes this plan any different?"

"She has a point," said Ron, shocking Hermione.

"Ron!" Hermione said, a little hurt by his betrayal. "You can't actually think that's a good idea! Rushing in without a plan?"

"Come on, Hermione," said Ron, taking a step toward her. "What happened to the fearless Hermione I knew? You would have done anything to help your friends…and Neville needs us now."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just don't know…"

"Then Ron and I will go."

Hermione's head jerked up at that. She stared at Ginny. "What?"

"You don't have to come." Ginny's eyes glittered as she stared off at the tiny shape of Azkaban in the distance, surrounded by crashing waves. "You know, if you're too scared."

Hermione instantly swelled with indignation. If it weren't for her, the three of them wouldn't be there at all! (Although she _had _initially been against coming to Azkaban.) And Ginny expected her to cower behind like a frightened mouse? Not a chance.

"Fine," Hermione said grimly. "Let's go."

Ron suddenly was the one who looked nervous. "Wait, so we're just going to waltz over there, pounce on the first three people we see, knock them out, and grab their hairs for the potion? Is there enough potion for all of us? What if the dementors get us first?"

"We don't have to worry about dementors," insisted Ginny, exasperated. "We all have a Patronus, don't we? So what's to worry about? And of course there'll be enough potion, if we use it sparingly."

"Ginny's right," Hermione said determinedly. "And we'll…we'll just have to take the risk." She could hardly believe how reckless they were being, but Ginny was right. The more time they wasted here, the more Neville had to suffer.

"And how are we going to get all the way to that tiny island?" continued Ron doubtfully, squinting at the dot that was Azkaban.

"I've already thought of that," said Hermione, relieved to regain a little control. She raised her wand and said clearly, "_Accio broomsticks!" _

They had to wait a minute or two for the nearest broomsticks to reach them-Hermione guessed they were from the mansion in the distance, which was just an isolated smudge to her eyes-and when they did, the three of them hopped onto their respective brooms at once. Hermione did feel a bit guilty about stealing someone else's brooms, and could only hope to find a way to return them to their owners after this whole ordeal was over and done with.

They sailed over the gray water, keeping low to the waves so they weren't as easily spotted. The closer they got, the more Hermione's anxiety grew. Adrenaline was pumping through her, and she urged her broom to go faster. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get this done.

In less time than she would have expected, they reached the island where Azkaban stood. Hermione's heart lurched as she instantly felt the chill in the air and the plummeting despair that signaled that dementors were nearby, and lots of them. She glanced at her friends and could immediately tell they had felt the effects of dementors as well.

They dismounted their brooms and crept toward the huge prison. Hermione's heart was in her throat. She was tense with nervousness and fear, yet her mind felt clear. They could do this. All they had to do was find a few human guards, maybe some visitors…

Dementors prowled in the shadows, but they didn't seem to be on the lookout for intruders. Hermione suspected that people rarely tried to break _in _to Azkaban. They were there to make sure no one got out.

"How do we get inside?" whispered Ron. Ginny shushed him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the prison, searching for a good way in. There didn't appear to be any windows at all, and the front door was most likely round the other side. It would be difficult to maneuver around the island unseen.

Ginny pointed silently at something slightly to the left. Hermione followed her gesture and felt a little flutter of excitement. A side door, most likely used for the guards.

Hermione felt Ron's hand on the small of her back. At first she thought he was just offering his support and comfort, but then he started pressing her forward. He had Ginny by the arm and he was hurrying them toward the door. Hermione was so stunned she could do nothing but stumble along next to him.

Ron whipped out his wand as they neared the door without breaking stride and was about to whisper a spell when a sudden sweep of iciness passed over Hermione, making her shiver. She heard the sound of rattling breath behind her and turned slowly.

Her heart nearly stopped.

They were completely surrounded by towering, shadowy dementors, and every one of them had already begun to lower their hoods to deliver the deadly Dementor's Kiss.


	10. Chapter 9

_ "It has nothing to do with weakness. The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that others don't have." ~Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban _

Chapter 9

For about one second, Hermione stood frozen, unable to think, move, fight. She was overwhelmed by the presence of the dementors, by the sight of their rotted hands reaching for her, their eyeless gray faces looming over her as they advanced.

But this wasn't a time to freeze up. Hermione reached into her robes, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped her wand. She pointed it at the nearest dementor and cried, her voice breaking, "_Expecto patronum!" _

A wisp of light spurted out of her wand and then faded harmlessly away.

The dementor barely paused before ghosting toward her, its horrific hands inches from her face. Then there was a sudden blaze of light and a glowing horse charged past Hermione, driving the dementor back. It screeched and swept away from the Patronus, unable to bear its light.

Hermione turned, dazed and sickened, to see Ginny standing there, wand still pointed at the dementor. Their eyes met and Ginny nodded once, her face grim. Hermione felt Ginny's encouragement as if she had just been lent a hand to grasp, and she turned back to the small army of dementors, which had hesitated upon seeing Ginny's horse Patronus.

"Get to the door." Ron's breath was warm on her ear. "Don't bother fighting. Just get to the door."

For a moment Hermione was confused, and then she realized what he was saying, and anger rushed through her. "I'm not going to leave you here," she hissed. "I'm no coward."

It was then that the dementors decided Ginny's Patronus was no longer enough of a threat to keep them from their prey. They glided forward as one, their whispering breaths sending clouds of steam into the air. This time, Hermione was prepared. Her wand was steady as she pointed it at the advancing line and held a memory in her head—an old memory, one she had forgotten for years but that came to her in this moment of rushing adrenaline and pounding fear.

She thought of Ron, and she thought of Harry. She thought of them sitting side by side in the Gryffindor common room by the roaring fire, walking through Hogsmeade with their arms slung across each other's shoulders, always beside each other, always fighting for one another. A little spark of joy ignited in her chest, and her Patronus burst out of her wand like it had been dying to escape for ages.

The otter swam through the air like water, darting toward dementors and sending them doubling back quickly. Ron's Jack Russell terrier quickly joined the onslaught, and the three Patronuses slowly began to fight their enemies back.

Hermione heard a shout and spun. A decaying hand was clamped on Ron's shoulder, the other hand wrapping around his neck and forcing his head up. Hermione didn't hesitate. She thrust her wand toward the dementor and screamed, "_Expecto Patronum!",_ summoning up the first happy thought that came to her mind.

It was her first kiss with Ron.

She had no time to recover from her shocking memory before another dementor had latched onto her arm and was dragging her toward it. For a moment she stared dazed into the face of the dementor, its mouth gaping as it drank her soul greedily. Horrible images flashed before her eyes—some of them things that had happened and some she did not recognize. There was Remus Lupin and Tonks lying pale and still on the floor of the Great Hall, hand in hand, and then that changed into a scene of her parents being tortured by Voldemort—something that was not a memory at all.

She watched Mr. and Mrs. Weasley crying over Fred's body, and then she looked on in horror as Fred morphed into Ron, cold and pale and dead in his parents' arms. And then there was Harry, held by a wailing Hagrid, his brilliant green eyes shut forever, his life ended.

"No!" she screamed, ripping away from the dementor's horrific visions. She fell backward and hit the ground hard, shaking too badly to stand. Hermione stared up at the dementor, feeling tears drip down her cheeks from the images she had just seen. It bent over and reached for her a second time, and this time she knew she wouldn't be able to break away.

And then Ron was there as if he had appeared out of thin air, standing between Hermione and the dementor, a look of hard determination on his face. His voice was low and calm as he murmured, "_Expecto Patronum." _There was no terrier dog bursting from his wand. Instead a shapeless light, so bright Hermione had to turn her face away, enveloped the three of them. Wind whipped Hermione's hair and robes, and she covered her eyes with her hands, terrified, imagining she could feel the dementor's hands still on her.

It could have been minutes later or seconds when she felt something touch her arm. She whimpered and shrank away.

"Hermione." Ron's quiet voice penetrated her fear. "Hermione, it's all right. It's over."

Hermione slowly lowered her shaking hands to look into Ron's face. His eyes were serious, searching hers. "Are you all right? You aren't hurt, are you?" he asked her with concern.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that yes, everything was fine, they could continue on straightaway, but instead more tears poured out of her eyes and she threw her arms around Ron's neck. She felt him stiffen with surprise and then awkwardly put his arms around her, repeating in her ear, "It's all right. You're safe now."

But was it really all right? Could they do this? Seeing those visions—some of them real, some of them false—had created a whole new level of doubt in Hermione's mind. They had all lost so much already. Ron had lost two of his brothers, and with George in the state he was currently in, he might as well have lost him, too. They were putting so much at risk, being here. It had been her idea to find the remaining Horcrux, her idea to seek Ron out, and because of her Ginny and now Neville were being put in the line of fire as well.

Could she really do this to her friends?

She opened her tear-blurred eyes to look at Ginny over Ron's shoulder. She was watching them both with a solemn expression. Suddenly ashamed of breaking down in front of them both, Hermione pulled away from Ron, and he released her somewhat reluctantly. She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice still thick with tears. "I-I don't know what came over me."

"You saw the visions," Ginny said flatly, setting her jaw and crossing her arms. "Yeah. We kind of guessed."

"I didn't handle it well, though. You shouldn't have had to see that."

Ginny sighed. "You don't have to be a rock, Hermione. It's not a crime to show some emotion once in a while."

Hermione bit back the response that popped into her mind, that Ginny didn't exactly let her feelings be known to the others either. This wasn't the time to start a row.

Ron stood up and wordlessly held out his hand. Hermione took it and let him help her to her feet. For a moment their eyes met and their hands lingered together, and Hermione thought of the memory that had come unbidden into her head, her kiss with Ron, and she wondered if he had remembered the very same thing…and then Hermione drew back, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment.

The dementors had all scattered after Ron's immensely powerful Patronus. Though the dreadful chill was still in the air, it had lessened without the immediate presence of dementors.

"How did you do that, Ron?" Hermione asked, still trying to regain the last of her composure.

"Do what?"

"That Patronus!" Hermione exclaimed. "What else? You chased them all off in one go!"

Ron shrugged. "Ginny helped."

Ginny snorted. "I barely did anything. That was all you, Ron." For just a moment, a shadow of affection passed her gaze as she looked at her brother, but it was gone in the next instant.

"I just had an incredibly happy memory," said Ron carelessly, and Hermione could have sworn he glanced at her.

"I suppose we should go in," Hermione said shakily, gazing at the huge, towering fortress of Azkaban. "They know there are intruders here now. We'll be swarmed by dementors again in a few minutes' time."

Ginny nodded grimly and Ron stepped closer to Hermione. For only a moment, Hermione was tempted to move away from him, but then changed her mind and reached out to grasp his hand tightly. Reaching out, she took hold of Ginny's hand as well, and then took a deep, steadying breath. There was no room for doubt now.

Together they stepped up to the door. Ron took out his wand again, whispered, "_Alohomora," _and a little click told them that there were no un-lockable charms put on the door. Ginny gently pushed on the door, and it swung open with a creak.

Heart pounding, Hermione squeezed her friends' hands and stepped into the shadows of Azkaban.


	11. Chapter 10

_"I__ don't want to break rules, you know. __I__ think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion." ~Hermione, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _

**_Thanks for all the kind reviews, everyone! They make me oh so very happy! Oh. So. Very. Happy. Sorry, that was a little creepy. Anyway, just thought I should disclaim really quick… I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't think JKR is planning on giving him to me as a Christmas present anytime soon, so I'll have to make do with this fanfic. _**

Chapter 10

The moment Hermione stepped inside, she was nearly swept away by the waves of despair and ice that crashed into her. She had never been near so many dementors at once. She felt her knees begin to shake and she felt faint as if she would pass out then and there. She looked at her friends and saw that they were white-faced and trembling as well.

Shutting her eyes, Hermione forced her thoughts to focus on something happy. Sitting by the lake on the warm summer afternoon after exams were finished, laughing with Ron and Harry, knowing that for once she could sit and be with her friends and not have to worry about a thing. Those times had been so few and far between, and Hermione clung to them as if they were precious treasures, and in a sense, they were.

"_E-Expecto Patronum_," she managed to whisper through her chattering teeth. Her otter slipped out of the tip of her wand and swam through the air around them. Warmth slowly trickled back into Hermione's limbs, and the despair weighing her shoulders lessened.

Ron's terrier quickly joined Hermione's Patronus, although they agreed that Ginny's might draw attention, as it was larger.

"Where do we go?" breathed Ron, glancing warily around. "We can't stand around."

"Don't ask me," Ginny snapped. "It's not like I hang around Azkaban in my free time."

"Don't fight," said Hermione sharply. "Let's just…walk." She took the first step forward, another shiver sliding through her as the temperature dropped even further. She felt Ginny and Ron pressing close to her, but she didn't look at them. She was afraid that if she saw the fear in their eyes, her doubts would come rushing back, and they couldn't afford hesitation now.

The inside of Azkaban looked a little like the dungeons Hermione used to read about when she was interested in Muggle fairytales as a child. Cold, dark stone walls, winding staircases, and barely any windows. There were a few bewitched lanterns lighting the way, but for the most part the hallway they were venturing through was very dark. She supposed that the light was for the Death Eaters that sometimes patrolled the prison, for dementors did not need light.

"What—" Ginny began, but Hermione shushed her. Ginny glared at her, but Hermione hissed, "I heard something!"

They all went very still and listened. Sure enough, voices were wafting down the corridor toward them, accompanied by the glow of wandlight. Hermione grabbed her friends' arms and pressed herself against the wall, suddenly grateful for the lack of light.

Four figures rounded the corner, talking in low tones and surrounded by shimmering wisps of light that must have served as their Patronus protection. They were all wearing Death Eaters' robes and masks. One of them laughed—a deep, throaty, chilling sound that echoed around the stone walls. Hermione steeled herself and hoped that Ron and Ginny had the same idea that she did.

She didn't give the Death Eaters any time to prepare themselves. Leaping into the middle of the corridor, she shouted, "_Stupefy!" _and Stunned two of them before they could even register that she was there. Ron and Ginny quickly disabled the other two, and then they were standing in silence again, staring down at the four paralyzed Death Eaters.

"Er…now what?" said Ron.

"Now we take their hairs with the Polyjuice," said Hermione, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Simple."

"And then what do we do with the bodies?" Ginny demanded. "I don't see any closets handy, do you?"

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't thought about what they would do with the actual people that they were transforming into. If they left them here, they were bound to recover from the attack and sound the alarm. Other Death Eaters or dementors might even find them before they shook off the Stunning spell.

"Hold on," said Ron, and he stepped forward and started dragging one of the Death Eaters back the way they'd come. Hermione shared a mystified glance with Ginny before following him.

They found Ron opening a trapdoor in the stone floor with a resounding creak that made them all cringe. "It must be a cellar of some kind. I saw it when we came in," he explained, peering down into the dark hole. "It's too dark to see anything, but I'd say it will do."

"Ron, you're brilliant!" Hermione whispered, beaming at him until his face turned pink, his blush visible even in the semi-darkness.

They hurried back to the other three. "_Mobilicorpus," _Hermione murmured, and the others followed suit until they had levitated the bodies to the edge of the cellar.

"All right then." Hermione glanced at the others and then bent down to pluck a few hairs out of the head of one of the Death Eaters. She peeked under his mask and made a face. He had a big curly beard and scars that covered the left side of his face and that had turned his eye a milky white. She didn't recognize him, but she was certain she didn't want to spend any amount of time being him.

"Mine's not much better," Ginny muttered, grimacing as she de-masked her own Death Eater and found a man with a bulbous nose and a large wart on his chin.

"Well, look at that," said Ron weakly. Hermione looked over and, despite their situation, she had to cough to hide her laughter. It was a fat redheaded man whose hairline was dramatically receded. His face was frozen in an expression of comical shock.

"Can't escape the red hair, can you?" Ginny whispered, and together she and Hermione snickered.

Ron scowled. "Shut it. Let's just get this over with."

Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out the vial of Polyjuice potion. "You brought the teacups, right?" she whispered to Ginny.

"Of course," Ginny replied, dawning three chipped cups she'd taken from George's shop. "Ridiculously impractical to carry around during a prison break, by the way."

Hermione took the teacups from Ginny and carefully poured a small amount of Polyjuice into each one, making sure they all had roughly the same amount. They didn't have much, and she wasn't sure how long it would last, but she did know that they had to move quickly. If it wore off while they were in the depths of Azkaban…

Shaking away the thought, she dropped the hairs into her teacup, trying not to gag at the smell it gave off. Ginny wrinkled her nose and Ron turned a little green as they added their own ingredients.

"Cheers," said Hermione, and tipped the cup back.

The taste was absolutely dreadful. It was even worse than the Polyjuice she'd taken in her second year, which had been tainted with cat hair. The teacup slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground with a delicate tinkling sound.

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned, pressing a hand over his mouth. Ginny's teacup had just taken a trip to the floor as well. In contrast to Ron's green complexion, she had turned pasty white and stared straight ahead with wide eyes.

Hermione rolled onto her knees and gagged, afraid she would throw the potion back up again. She felt the changes overtaking her body, and it was not a pleasant sensation. Her hair seemed to grow back into her head, or perhaps it just re-grew out of her face as the beard sprouted; her face altered itself and she lost sight out of her left eye. She groaned and the voice that came out of her was gruff and very male.

"Why couldn't there have been a few women wandering down the corridor instead?" Ginny grumbled out of her Death Eater's mouth. Her voice sounded strangely squeaky.

"This is better than a woman," Ron said. Hermione glanced over at him and had to press her lips together to keep herself from grinning. Ginny, however, had no aversion to bursting into donkey-like brays of laughter when she caught sight of her brother.

"Looks like you got a glimpse into your future, Ronnie!" Ginny snickered. Hermione had to say that it did look as if Ron had just aged dramatically in the space of a few minutes.

"Shut it," Ron said sullenly.

"Come on, let's dump them in here before they wake up," said Hermione. They pushed the three Death Eaters down into the hole to join the fourth, shut the trapdoor, and put a locking hex on it. Then Hermione whispered, "_Muffliato," _so that if they did happen to rouse, no one would hear their screams for help.

"Let's go, we don't have much time," Ron's rough voice said. They gathered up the robes and masks they had taken from the Death Eaters, put them on, and then hurried down the hallway. Hermione's heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute. _They had done it. _They'd accomplished one of the hardest parts of the breakout. Now all they had to do was find Neville…and somehow get him out of his cell, past the dementors, and off the island unscathed.

This was going to be even harder than she'd feared.


	12. Chapter 11

_"I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!" ~Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _

"Why—are—there—so—many—bloody—_stairs?" _moaned Ron, bracing the chubby hands of his Death Eater host on his knees.

Ginny cast her brother a contemptuous look. "Really, Ron, we've only been climbing for about ten minutes," she said, although her words came out a little breathless.

Hermione had to admit, she hadn't expected Azkaban to be _quite _this similar to a Muggle fairytale dungeon. Not a single elevator to be seen, the only way to reach any level was the stairs. She suspected Ron had it worse off than the rest of them, as the redheaded man he had transformed into had a lot of extra weight to carry around.

"Both of you, be quiet," she said, although the words were halfhearted. While they were in these bodies, they had no need to be extremely cautious, as long as they didn't say anything that would reveal them for who they really were.

"What?" protested Ron. "I'm tired! Can't we take a break?"

"No," Ginny snapped. "We've got a limited amount of time to get this done. Your fat bottom has already slowed us down enough."

Ron fixed her with a glower that made him look so much like himself that it worried Hermione a little.

"Maybe we should put our masks back on," she suggested.

"No way. I'm already sweating to death in my robes, and I'd fall back down the stairs with this thing strapped to my face," Ginny said, dangling the mask by her fingertip in disgust.

"Let's just go," huffed Ron, beginning to recover. "Do you have any idea what floor Neville—?"

Hermione shushed him. "We're Death Eaters," she reminded him in a low voice. "We aren't looking for Neville, remember? We're patrolling."

At last, they reached the top of the staircase. Ron nearly crumpled to the ground in relief. While they caught their breath, Hermione glanced around the stone chamber they had emerged into. A lone window looked out over the ocean, and she was surprised to see just how high up they had gotten. "Where would they be keeping him?" she murmured, half to herself.

"Maybe we should ask someone," Ginny said.

"Ask someone what?"

The voice made their heads whip around. Another Death Eater stood in the doorway at the other side of the room. His wand was in his hand, but he was not pointing it at them. He didn't sound or look threatening in the least. Hermione forced herself to breathe. He had no idea he was not talking to his fellow Death Eaters.

"Oh…nothing," Hermione spluttered when she realized that neither Ron nor Ginny were planning on saying anything.

The eyes beneath the Death Eater's mask flickered to the other two. Both Ron and Ginny wore expressions of shock, which Hermione could not puzzle out. "Stairs beat you again, Pince?" said the Death Eater, sounding highly amused. And that's when Hermione understood. That voice. She knew it from somewhere, though she could not quite grasp exactly who it belonged to…

Ron figured it out first. He gaped at the Death Eater and after a few moments managed to spit out, "_Malfoy?" _

The Death Eater reached up and removed his mask, and Hermione was certain she looked as stunned as the others. Sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy, wearing his usual expression of contempt, looking at Ron as if he had just discovered something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe.

"Of course it's me, Pince," he snapped. "Who were you expecting, Albus Dumbledore?"

Hermione forced her face into an expression of indifference. It was bad enough that Ron was still staring like he'd just seen the devil incarnate; at least Ginny had managed to compose herself as well.

Hermione took a step closer and studied Malfoy more closely. Like many of the people she'd once known, she had not seen Malfoy since the day Harry…since the day Voldemort won. There was a startling difference to the Malfoy she had known and despised. He had always been pale, but now his complexion had reached the point of looking gray. He was thinner than was healthy and his eyes had a dull look to them. She could see the point of his wand twitching back and forth as his hand shook slightly.

She wondered if being posted at Azkaban had put too much stress on Malfoy…or perhaps the pressure of being a Death Eater in general. It wasn't surprising that he was still a strong Voldemort supporter. If he had been a Death Eater in his days at Hogwarts, why not now? But she still couldn't help feeling shocked at seeing him here.

"What are the three of you doing here, anyway?" Malfoy's pale eyes darted around them suspiciously.

"Just letting Pince catch his breath," said Ginny briskly, and Hermione sent a silent thank you to her. "Then we're off to patrol the corridors."

"Again? I thought you were just let off duty. Weren't you going to stop in at Hogsmeade or something?"

"We were," Hermione cut in. Her own gravelly voice startled her; she still wasn't used to this body. "But then we were given orders to stick around for another hour."

Malfoy grunted. "Bloody regulators. They think they can treat us like filthy dogs. One day we'll be the ones in charge, and they'll be sorry." He cast a glance at Hermione. "Although you have quite a bit of influence already, Rodd. I'd say you're on your way to the top."

Unsure of what else to say that wouldn't be dooming, Hermione just grunted.

Ron finally seemed to be recovering from his shock, wrenching his dazed stare away from Malfoy. Hermione wondered how many memories were flowing through his head as he looked at his old enemy.

"We were just headed up to the prisoners ward," said Ginny, keeping her face stoic.

Malfoy raised a derisive eyebrow. "The prisoners are scattered everywhere, Knash," he said with a hint of his old sneer in his voice. "I don't know what you're babbling about wards."

To her credit, Ginny's expression didn't change. "All right, I suppose I'll let you in on the secret," she said with a large amount of annoyance. "We were given direct orders to take a Neville Longbottom for questioning."

Hermione stared at Ginny, then at Malfoy, holding her breath for his response. That was an incredibly risky thing to say. It did make Ginny sound as if she knew what she was doing, but if she got her facts wrong…

For a moment Hermione could have sworn she saw a flicker of suspicion in Malfoy's eyes, but then he just said, "Longbottom again? I swear some people cannot get it through their thick heads that he refuses to utter a single peep. Even under the Cruciatus Curse, he doesn't break." He grunted. "I have to give him a little credit for that, I suppose."

"You might as well come with us," added Hermione on a wild impulse.

Malfoy gave her a strange look, so Ginny came to the rescue again. "This old brain never remembers where each prisoner is kept," she grunted, tapping her temple. "Better to have a young mind to lead the way."

Malfoy looked like he wanted to protest, but then he just sighed, turned on his heel, and said, "It's this way."

Hermione exchanged a look with Ginny and Ron, trying to stifle her excitement. Now they had conveniently gotten a guide. Maybe, just maybe, they could get out of here smoothly.

Ron, who still looked stunned and who hadn't uttered a single word throughout their conversation with Malfoy, trailed at the back of the group. Hermione had to frequently stop herself from glancing back at him to make sure he was still there.

Malfoy drawled on and on while he led them through the stone corridors and up still more staircases, all of which were infested with dementors, but luckily Malfoy's Patronus kept them at bay. Hermione listened at first, but it didn't take long for her to realize that he was mostly boasting about things she didn't understand, or had no interest in, so she began to tune him out.

Until a name caught her attention in his unending talk.

"—and old Lovegood finally came around, thanks to me," Malfoy said, sounding rather proud of himself. "I had a little help, but it was mostly me who—"

"Did you say Lovegood?" Hermione interrupted. "As in…"

"Xenophilius, yes," said Malfoy. He gave a short little bark of laughter. "All I had to do was threaten his daughter and he didn't hesitate to join us."

"Oh, right, he has a daughter," said Hermione, striving to sound casual. "What was her name again? Luna?"

"More like Loony," said Malfoy scornfully. "I went to school with that lunatic. She joined Potter's band of misfit friends and suddenly considered herself a hero. Just like him." Hermione couldn't identify the emotions in Malfoy's voice as he spoke about Harry. Did he still hate him, even though he was no longer among them?

"What happened to the daughter?" Ron cut in, finally making himself useful.

"Dunno," said Malfoy impassively. "She ran off after we let her go. Probably went and holed herself up in that little shack of hers. When it came to lifestyles, hers was poorest only second to the Weasleys." Then he laughed, though it lacked the malice that had once showed in his every word and action back in their Hogwarts days.

Hermione saw Ginny and Ron bristle out of the corner of her eye, but thankfully they didn't say anything.

"Right, here we are," said Malfoy, coming to a stop at the beginning of a long, dim corridor that looked much the same as the others, except it was lined with cramped cells. "Longbottom is somewhere along here."

Hermione strode past him without another word, scanning the right side of the corridor and trusting the other two to look on the left. She tried not to look too closely at the other prisoners inside, for their frightening, ragged appearances both made her heart ache with sadness and her skin tingle with fear.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were beginning to tremble. There was nothing she wanted more than finding Neville, but suddenly she dreaded of what she would see in that little cell. She still remembered the way Sirius had looked after Azkaban—sunken and sallow, haunted and dark. When she thought of Neville, she still thought of the clumsy, round-cheeked, sheepish boy she had come to love and respect. She knew she would not find that boy here.

"You guys," said Ginny's voice softly from near the end of the row of cells on the left side. The strained sound of her voice made Hermione pause and look toward her. She was standing in front of the bars of one of the cells, staring inside with her Death Eater host's broad shoulders slumped as if weighed down by something heavy.

Hermione slowly approached her side, wishing she were somewhere else, anywhere else. Ron came up on her other side and the three of them gazed into the cell together, which had a tiny plaque above it that read, _Neville Longbottom. _

It was a tiny, cramped space with a small bench that also must have served as a bed. Seated on it was a thin, frail-looking man who had his head bowed toward the ground so that his shaggy hair covered his face. Everything about the prisoner, from his hunched shoulders to the motionlessness about him, screamed _defeated_.

Hermione took a step closer and wrapped her hands around the bars. "Neville?" she whispered.

He raised his head at the sound of his name and Hermione stifled a gasp. It was like looking into the face of Sirius Black. His face was pale, almost yellowish, his eyes sunken in and lined with deep shadows. His once chubby cheeks were now gaunt and the light in his eyes was gone. He looked at her blankly as if staring straight through her.

"Neville, it's me," she said, forgetting that she wasn't in her own body.

"Hermione," Ginny murmured in a warning tone.

"What are the three of you gawking at?" Malfoy demanded, striding over. He peered into the cell with them. "All right, Longbottom?" Hermione hated the contempt in his voice. "These three say they're here to take you for more interrogation."

Neville's face darkened and his eyes flickered around the four of them, as if sizing them up. It made Hermione's heart ache to see the haunted look on his face.

"You have keys?" Ginny asked Malfoy, and he stared at her as if she were crazy.

"All you have to do is hold your Mark up to the bars and they'll open," he said as if it were obvious—and Hermione supposed that it should have been for their Death Eater bodies.

"Right, forgot" Ginny mumbled, pulling up the sleeve of her cloak to reveal a disconcertingly hairy arm that was branded with the Dark Mark, which she held up to the bars. They slid into the ceiling with a soft clanging sound.

"Come on, Nev—er, Longbottom," said Ron, stepping hesitantly inside and wrapping a hand around his arm. Neville got stoically to his feet and allowed himself to be led out of the cell.

"I might just want to watch this 'interrogation,'" Malfoy sneered, eyeing Neville disdainfully.

That was when Hermione noticed that Ginny's greasy hair was starting to turn red again.

"Get back to work," she barked at Malfoy, surprised by the harshness of her voice.

Malfoy's snide smile instantly slipped into a sulky expression. "I haven't got anything better to do," he protested.

She saw Ron's eyes widen as he looked at her, and she realized with a sickening feeling that she must be staring to change back as well.

"We have to go," she said, taking Neville by his other arm and hurrying him down the corridor, leaving Malfoy to stare after them in confusion.

"I won't talk," said Neville stonily.

"It's all right, Nev, you don't have to," Ron whispered. Neville gave him a bewildered look.

"We're here to rescue you," Ginny added from just behind him.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's _us, _Neville," Hermione told him quietly.

Neville turned his head and looked at her closely. She wondered how much of her normal face was beginning to show through her Death Eater façade, but apparently it was enough. His eyes widened. "Hermione?" he breathed.

She beamed at him.

"We have to get out now," Ron muttered as they took a sharp turn and saw the staircase they had climbed for what seemed like forever just up ahead.

Hermione was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a dark shape swirled out of nowhere, moving into their path. She didn't think, she just acted. "_Expecto Patronum!" _she cried, the low timbre of her voice growing higher as her old voice returned.

Her otter wriggled out of her wand and swam lazily around in the air. Hermione stared at it in confusion for a moment. Why wasn't it attacking the dementor? Then her eyes fell upon the obstacle in their path and she felt her stomach plummet.

It wasn't a dementor. It was Malfoy-he must have taken a secret corridor to intercept them. And he was watching her otter with a look of shock on his face.

"But Rodd, your Patronus is a crocodile," he said incredulously. His eyes slowly came to rest on her face. "The otter belongs to…" She felt her beard retract into her face and knew it was all over as she watched his eyes narrow. "Granger," he snarled, reaching for his wand.

But Ginny beat him to it. "_Petrificus Totalus!" _she bellowed, and Malfoy let out a yell as he tumbled to the ground, stiff as a board.

The damage had been done. There were shouts coming from down the corridor, men that had been alerted by the sound of Malfoy's loud cry. Hermione spun around and her eyes widened in horror as she saw at least seven or eight Death Eaters racing toward them, wands out, and behind them a sea of dementors.

Hermione turned to the others and shouted, "_Run!" _

* * *

_I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Don't forget to review, it makes my day! _


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks for all your lovely reviews, m'dears. You can never have too many, right? Or can you…? Anyway, thanks for reading and subscribing and favoriting and reviewing and everything! {brief awkward pause} so…how bout them Chudley Cannons? **

Hermione spun and seized Neville's arm as she raced toward the staircase. Her Death Eater robes, now much too long for her, threatened to trip her, so she hiked them up with her free hand and descended the stone stairs as fast as she dared.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Ron and Ginny just behind her. A chill was sweeping over them as the dementors overtook the pursuing Death Eaters and began to glide down the staircase toward them, rotted hands reaching and breath rattling, seeking their escaped prisoner.

Hermione heard Neville's frightened gasps beside her and she tightened her grip on him. _I won't let him go back in that cell, _she thought fiercely. She stopped and whirled around, raising her wand. The other three flew by her and then hesitated a few steps down, looking back.

"Go!" she shouted. She pointed her wand at the dementors. "_Impedimenta!" _The frighteningly swift progress of the cloaked creatures slowed, and Hermione turned and charged toward the bottom of the stairs.

She wasn't far behind the others when she saw Neville stumble. He was weak from being locked in a cell for so long under the dementors' horrible prescence and Hermione could tell he was already exhausted. He fell forward and tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap at the foot.

"Neville!" Ginny cried.

Hermione reached the bottom only a few moments after Ron and Ginny. She knelt down beside Neville and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were shut tight and he groaned painfully.

The Death Eaters' shouts were becoming louder, and Hermione knew that her charm was going to wear off soon. Heart leaping in her chest, she cried, "_Mobilicorpus!" _and Neville's limp body rose in the air to hover beside her.

"Where do we go now?" shouted Ron, looking about frantically.

"We need to get outside," Hermione answered, trembling with fear and adrenaline. She picked a direction and started running, knowing they couldn't linger at the foot of the stairs, within hexing distance of the Death Eaters.

The chill in the air was becoming unbearable as the dementors neared, angry at being cheated out of their prisoner. Ginny whispered something and her horse Patronus leapt out of her wand and cantered around them, whinnying shrilly.

"Wait!" Hermione had been struck with a sudden, rash, impossible idea. She raced to the nearest window, letting Neville drift gently to the ground. The window had bars fortifying it. _"Reducto!" _The bars, along with the glass, on the window exploded. Hermione turned away, covering her face from the shards that flew everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Ron demanded. "You don't expect us to jump out the window, do you?"

Hermione leaned forward and peered out, her head spinning as she saw the long drop they had to the ground. But they didn't have time to locate the door again. It was hard enough having to carry Neville around, she wasn't sure she could do it while running.

She looked back helplessly at the others, who stared back at her, and a feeling of deep dread started to seep into Hermione. Perhaps the dementors brought it on, or maybe she had sensed that this was really the end. After coming so far and getting so close, their mission had failed.

Suddenly Ginny strode up beside her and gazed out the window at the long drop before them, a look of deep concentration on her face. Hermione opened her mouth to ask what she was thinking, but a jet of light exploding on the wall beside her made her spin around in shock.

She could see the Death Eaters running down the corridor toward them, aiming their wands and firing. Their aim was dreadful due to the fact that they were moving, but eventually they would be close enough that they couldn't possibly miss. Hermione could see Malfoy running with them now, although he didn't have the light of hatred and bloodlust in his eyes like the others. In fact, his eyes were wide with fear.

"Here goes nothing," Hermione heard Ginny mutter beside her, and then she whispered, "_Accio broomsticks!" _

Hermione looked over at her in amazement. She hadn't even thought of that. But the brooms were most likely all the way on the other side of the prison. They would never get here in time.

Hermione heard Ron yell as one of the hexes hit his shoulder. She cried out and ran to his side, where he had dropped to his knees on the floor, clutching his shoulder with his face twisted in pain.

"I'm all right," he panted. He winced. "Must have been a dislocation hex."

Hermione helped him to his feet and called desperately to Ginny, "Are they coming?"

Spells were flying everywhere. Hermione blocked them as best she could, but there were too many of them. They were horribly outnumbered. At least Ginny's Patronus was keeping the dementors at bay.

Ginny leaned farther out the window until she seemed in danger of falling right out. "I don't see them," she said, sounding frustrated.

Hermione looked over at the approaching Death Eaters and her eyes locked with Malfoy's. The oddest expression crossed his face—it looked like a cross between terror and determination. She watched as he stumbled—there was nothing his foot could have caught on, she noticed with confusion—and reached out to grab the robes of the nearest Death Eater to steady himself.

Both of them went down, and Malfoy's wand fired randomly into the throng of Death Eaters as he hit the floor. They yelled and leaped out of the way of the jet of fire. The ones who had been running directly behind Malfoy and the other Death Eater fell over them and sprawled on the ground as well, until there was a tangle of dark robes and a swell of angry voices making a huge scene of confusion.

"Here they come!" shouted Ginny, fingers clutching the edges of the window.

There was a whooshing sound from just outside the window, and then Hermione felt unspeakable joy and relief as she saw their three broomsticks hovering there, waiting for them to mount.

"Go!" she cried, but Ginny had run back and was trying to lift Neville to his feet by his underarms. He was coming to, but Hermione knew he was too weak and battered and weary to even attempt to stand.

"Move!" said Ron angrily, shoving Ginny out of the way. He hoisted Neville's half-conscious body over his uninjured shoulder, grunting with the effort.

Hermione cast a panicked look at the Death Eaters, who were finally managing to untangle themselves from one another, and who were firing haphazardly after them. She turned and pushed Ron toward the window with more force than she intended.

He climbed with painstaking care onto the window ledge, crouching there and gauging the distance to the nearest broomstick. If he continued at this pace, Ginny and Hermione would never even get past the windowsill.

"Just go already!" bellowed Ginny, and she shoved Ron's back with all her might. With a shocked cry, he tumbled out of the window and disappeared from sight.

Hermione screamed and lurched toward the window, halfway hanging out.

Ron, still clutching Neville, was hurtling toward the ground at a speed that would most certainly kill him. Hermione knew that the moment they hit the ground, her heart would shatter.

And then she saw his wand pointing upward, and one of the hovering brooms sprang into action and darted down toward the falling duo, catching them just feet before they hit the ground.

"Go!" Ginny screamed, and Hermione decided it would be better to hurry rather than let herself be pushed out like Ron had been.

"You first!" insisted Hermione. "I'll hold them off!" She fired at the Death Eaters, who had stopped running and were focusing on firing spells at them. Her arm whipped back and forth as she frantically tried to block all the curses heading toward her. She noticed that Malfoy hung near the back of the group, staring at her as if frozen, and he didn't fire a single spell.

She saw Ginny leap out of the window out of the corner of her eye, and for a heart stopping moment she thought that the girl had missed her target. But then Ginny zoomed past on one of the brooms, screaming, "_Come on, Hermione!" _

Abandoning the duel, Hermione turned and hopped up onto the window, staring down at the dizzying drop before her. The broom would require a short jump to get to, and suddenly Hermione felt as if all of her muscles had frozen. What if she fell? Imagining herself plummeting from this impossibly high height made her vision start to blur.

"_Hermione!" _she heard Ron's voice shouting her name, and she realized a moment too late that it had been a warning. She forced her legs to jump, but at the same moment she felt a hand reach out and grasp her ankle. She turned back, barely balancing on the edge of the window, ready to fire all manner of curses, but the moment she turned she saw a flash of red light, and the Stunning spell hit her full in the face.

She felt herself freeze instantly, and then the hand released her ankle and she was falling through space, and her last thought was, _We were so close. _


	14. Chapter 13

Wind roared in Hermione's ears and whipped her hair around her head as she plummeted toward the ground. She knew she ought to feel terrified, that she should be screaming her lungs out as she fell to her death, but instead she just stared upward at the spinning sky, feeling strangely empty.

A part of her waited for her life to flash before her eyes, but all she saw was the distant shape of a broomstick darting toward her, too high and too far to possibly reach her in time.

And then—

Strong arms wrapped around her, slowing her fall, and she heard a deep voice mutter the counter curse of the Stunning spell she'd been hit with. She came back to movement with a jerk, blinking and drawing huge gasps of air into her lungs.

She turned to look at her savior, expecting Ron, or at least Ginny, but it was neither of them.

She found herself staring into the face of none other than Draco Malfoy.

For a moment, Hermione could do nothing but gawk. Of all the people she would have expected to come to her aid, he was near the bottom of the list. He stared back at her, face paler than usual and eyes wide, as if he couldn't quite believe that he had saved her, either.

Hermione was distantly aware that they were drifting downward. The moment she felt her feet brush the ground, she hopped off the broom so fast she stumbled. Her legs were shaking so badly she could barely hold herself up. She continued to stare at Malfoy all the while, unable to so much as thank him. He stared back, his broom hovering a few feet off the ground.

"Hermione!" she heard Ron shouting. She could hear him rushing toward the ground on his broomstick, with Ginny close behind, but she didn't even look up. Her eyes stayed locked with Malfoy's.

"Why did you do that?" Her voice was low, wary. Despite what had just happened, she could not trust Draco Malfoy. He'd been the one to sound the alarm in the first place. How did she know this wasn't a trick?

But Malfoy looked as lost and bewildered as she felt. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I wasn't thinking—I saw you fall, so I grabbed the last broomstick and…I went after you." He dropped his gray eyes as if he could not stand to look at her anymore. "If I get caught, I'll be thrown into Longbottom's old cell." He climbed off the broom carefully, and Hermione could see his hands trembling.

"Aren't you going to arrest us or something?" Hermione asked, continuing to watch him as he started backing toward the fortress of Azkaban. Ron and Ginny lighted down beside her at that moment. Ron lurched off his broom, his foot catching on it so that he had to hop frantically on one foot to keep from sprawling on the ground. Neville slid off more slowly, taking several steps back from the flailing Ron.

"Hermione!" he shouted, impatiently kicking his broom away and sprinting toward her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and she finally tore her eyes away from Malfoy to look at him. "Are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm all right," she said, a little breathless. "M-Malfoy saved my life."

Ron, Ginny, and Neville all turned their eyes to stare at Malfoy, who looked back with a mixture of anxiety and defiance, and a hint of a sneer.

"You'd better get out of here before I call the Death Eaters," he snapped. Though it sounded like a threat, Hermione had the distinct impression that he was warning them to get away before they were caught.

"Come on," Ginny said tensely. "There's no time." She pushed the broom Malfoy had used toward Hermione, mounting her own. Ron's eyes searched Hermione's face for a second more, as if he couldn't quite believe she was all right, and then he turned to help Neville back onto the broomstick.

Hermione mounted hers as well, but she continued to look at Malfoy. He was pressed up against the wall of the prison to avoid being seen, but he watched as the four of them started to rise into the air. Their eyes met for a moment and Hermione mouthed at him, "Thanks." She wasn't sure, but she thought he gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

And then the cold of dementors started to stretch over her, and she heard the shouts and curses of many Death Eaters trying to fit through the same door all at once, and she turned to her friends. "We have to get out of here."

They all nodded at her, and as one they turned toward the mainland and sped off. Hermione's mind was still tangled up in what had just happened, still struggling to make sense of it, but then a new thought interrupted her confusion.

_They'd done it. _They had broken into Azkaban, the supposedly impenetrable prison of the Wizarding World, stolen away one of the prisoners, and escaped with hardly a scratch to remember the experience by. She looked ahead at where Neville rode on the back of Ron's broom, his shoulders hunched against the wind, or perhaps hunched against the memories of the tiny, dank cell he had been kept in for all those years.

Her brief spark of triumph faded as she wondered what Neville might have transformed into during his time locked away—he surely would not be the same boy she remembered. But if he wasn't Neville Longbottom any longer, then who was he?

They skidded to a clumsy halt when they reached the place where they had first Apparated, scrambling off their brooms and throwing them down onto the ground. They had no more use for them. Hermione glanced over her shoulder and at once spotted the black dots in the sky that were the Death Eaters, steadily growing larger as they neared. They were approaching at frightening speeds.

"We have to get out of here," said Hermione edgily. She reached out and grasped Ron's hand in her own, and Neville's in her other. His hand was extremely cold, and his fingers felt bony. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and he reached out to take Ginny's hand with his free one.

"On the count of three," Hermione muttered. Neville clearly wasn't strong enough to Apparate on his own, so she would have to take his extra weight along with her, as well as guiding Ginny and Ron to the place she had in mind. "One, two, three."

She turned on the spot and the four of them Disapparated.

For one terrifying moment, she thought Neville's hand was going to be ripped from her own. It was as if something was holding him back, keeping him from going with them, and his hand slid from hers until she was grasping it by the fingertips. With a sudden surge of terror, she seized his hand with all of her might and pulled, refusing to leave him behind, not after finally getting him back again.

And then it was over, as if nothing had happened.

Hermione opened her eyes, panting, to find that they had stopped in a large green field. She looked around in confusion; this was not the place she had meant to go, and yet it looked familiar.

Ron dropped her hand and walked forward several steps, staring out across the field with his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Ron?" Hermione took a step forward until she stood next to him, trying to see what he was staring at. "What is it? Where are we?"

"Did you take us here, Ron?" Ginny asked softly. Hermione turned to look at her, and was startled to see the expression on the other girl's face—it was full of sadness and longing as she looked off into the same direction as Ron.

"I didn't mean to," Ron mumbled. "It just popped into my head, and then when I thought it, I couldn't get it out, and I just wanted to come so badly…."

It was then that Neville's legs gave out, and he crumpled to the ground as if someone had kicked his feet out from underneath him. Hermione left Ron's side to kneel beside him, struggling to help Neville sit up.

"Ron!" she cried. "Help me!"

He seemed not to have heard.

"Ron!" she said, louder this time. "Neville's ill!"

Ron turned to her as if in slow motion. He walked over and knelt beside Neville, but he seemed to look straight through his old friend.

Ginny came to help Hermione prop Neville up. Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she saw her trying to blink away tears.

"Neville? Can you hear me?" Hermione asked, shaking his shoulders. His eyes were closed and his face looked deathly pale. She looked up at Ginny. "We need to get him help. He's been in Azkaban for too long."

Ginny nodded, inconspicuously swiping a hand under her eyes. "Right. Well, as long as we're here, we might as well take advantage. Neville will get help here, even if it is rather inconvenient"—here she cast a withering look at Ron—"that he chose this particular location."

Hermione glanced from her to Ron questioningly, but Ron was busy staring in the other direction again.

"What?" she burst out, unable to stand it a moment longer. "Where are we?"

Ginny looked up at her, her eyes unreadable. "Welcome back to the Burrow, Hermione," she said grimly.


	15. Chapter 14

**Got a little angsty scene between Ron and Hermione in this chapter! Gotta have that angst!;)**

Hermione stared at Ginny, trying to take in what she'd said. Then she turned to Ron, who was still staring as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Ron?" said Hermione, voice uncertain. "You took us to the Burrow?"

Ron shook his head, almost mechanically. "I didn't mean to. I knew we needed a place to go, and this was the first thing I thought of. I panicked."

There was a beat of silence. Then Hermione said cautiously, "Is it safe?"

"Mum didn't seem to think so," replied Ginny, her mouth twisting slightly. "She told us to leave. She didn't want us to 'get hurt.' She thought the Burrow would be a good target for the Death Eaters. Mum and Dad used to send us letters telling us they were okay."

"Did you ever visit?"

"I tried once, about three years ago." Ginny wouldn't meet Hermione's eye. "Mum wouldn't even let me inside. She told me to go away."

Hermione shook her head. "That doesn't sound like Mrs. Weasley at all."

"Maybe it was an impersonator then," said Ginny, laughing bitterly.

"Well, we're here, so I guess we have no choice but to stay, at least until Neville's recovered." She looked down at him, his face pale and slack, and felt a pang of worry. "Help me bring him inside. Ron?" At his name, he finally looked over, a dazed look on his face.

Ron bent to pick Neville up under his arms, wincing at the pain left over from a Death Eater's dislocation hex, and Hermione and Ginny took up his legs. They shuffled over the field as quickly as they could, maneuvering over the weathered and broken fence that surrounded the house, and set Neville gently down by the front door.

"They can't turn us away now," Hermione said encouragingly, noticing Ginny's wary expression. "Not with Neville in such bad shape."

Ron was standing there looking at the door as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"Knock," Ginny snapped. "Unless you want to throw a brick through the window instead."

Hermione saw Ron swallow, and then he raised his fist and rapped on the door with his knuckles.

They waited. No response came from the other side of the door.

"Maybe they think we're Death Eaters," suggested Hermione, but a bad feeling was starting to grow in her stomach.

"Knock harder," Ginny ordered.

Ron pounded the door with his fist for a while, but still there was no answer.

"Oh, out of the way," snapped Ginny, pushing past them and pointing her wand at the doorknob. "_Alohomora."_

There was no telltale click of the door unlocking. Hermione reached out and slowly grasped the knob, turning it and letting the door swing open. She looked at the other two, feeling her heartbeat kick up in her chest. "It was unlocked," she whispered.

They dragged Neville into the hallway and then straightened, looking around. The house looked totally deserted. No lights were on, and a layer of dust covered everything.

Ginny strode into the kitchen as if she couldn't wait to see it. Hermione cringed as her loud voice echoed, "Mum? Dad?" If there were Death Eaters lying in wait for them, Ginny had just given them away. Not that it mattered; they would be found anyway if they searched the house from top to bottom.

Hermione followed Ginny into the kitchen and stopped, looking around slowly. A pile of dishes was stacked in the sink, half of them clean and half of them dirty, as if Mrs. Weasley had been washing them and suddenly had to leave in a hurry. _The Daily Prophet _was open to page three on the kitchen table, and Hermione could imagine Mr. Weasley bending over it, scouring it for signs that You-Know-Who's reign was ending.

Ginny had already finished checking the kitchen; Hermione could hear her pounding upstairs, still calling in vain, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come. Hermione already knew that no one had lived in this house for quite some time.

She entered the hallway again and crouched down beside Neville, smoothing his shaggy hair away from his forehead. She sensed a gaze on her and looked up to see Ron still standing at the front door where they'd left him, looking down at her.

"Want to help me move Neville someplace more comfortable?" she asked, feeling strangely unsettled.

Without saying anything, Ron bent down and once again grabbed Neville under the arms. Together they moved him into the sitting room, settling him on the couch. Hermione stood by his head and looked down at him worriedly, wondering how one was supposed to care for an escaped prisoner.

"I hope he's all right," she murmured. "Do you think his mind is okay? He's been in Azkaban for so long, and he never was very—"

"Neville's strong," said Ron fiercely. "He'll be fine. Don't say he's weak."

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "I wasn't going to."

Ron wasn't looking at her. He was staring out the window, and Hermione was stricken by the look of grief and anger on his face.

"They're gone," he finally said. "They haven't been here for a while."

"I'm sure they left because they didn't think it was safe anymore," said Hermione. "They moved to a place where the Death Eaters could never find them. They're fine, I'm certain of it."

"Then why haven't they written?" Ron's voice was rough. "Why haven't they bothered to tell any of us where they went? Didn't they think we'd come back eventually and find the house empty? What are we supposed to think now?"

"Oh, Ron…" Hermione reached automatically for his hand, in the way she would have when they were younger. But, to her surprise, he moved out of her reach.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, staring at her outstretched hand with an odd look on his face.

"Do what?" She lowered her hand slowly, feeling strangely hurt that he hadn't let her take his.

"You try to take my hand. You look at me like…" She saw him swallow. "Like you used to."

Hermione suddenly found it difficult to meet his eye. "I'm sorry I left, Ron," she said softly. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't want to go. I had to." A part of her was bewildered by how they had even come to this topic; the look on Ron's face made it clear how upset he was over the disappearance of his parents. Hermione might have just pushed him over the edge by doing something as simple as trying to take his hand.

"Did you _have_ to go without saying goodbye?" A slightly bitter note had crept into his voice. "Did you _have_ to ignore my letters?"

"I thought it would be easier." She studied her hands. "For both of us. If…"

"If you cut yourself out of my life entirely," he finished flatly. "Right. Well, surprisingly enough, it wasn't easier, Hermione. At least not for me."

She twisted her hands together, hating the hurt on his face and in his voice, wishing she could erase it all. But what could she say to make things better? "I'm here now," she said quietly. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"You're here because you need me to help you finish this mission. Not because…" He trailed off, but Hermione could guess what he had been about to say. _Not because you wanted to see me. _

"I never stopped thinking about you," she murmured, not sure if she was just making things worse. "Every day."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him clench his hands into fists.

"You're killing me, Hermione," he said in a strangled voice. She looked up at him, shocked to see the torment on his face. "You sit there and you tell me that you thought about me every day, that you wished you hadn't left, that you came to me because there was no one else you'd rather do this with. But your actions say differently. You _left _me, Hermione."

"It was a mistake!"

"Don't." He shook his head and took a step back. "Don't say that. I don't want you to act like you'll stick around. I know you won't."

"You don't know what I'll do," she said, surprising herself with the savage sound to her voice. "You don't know how I feel about you."

"Please don't," said Ron in a low voice. "Don't get my hopes up like that. You told me you cared for me once before, Hermione. You left right afterward. If that happens again, I won't be able to bear it. So just don't."

And with that, he turned and abruptly left the room.

Hermione stared after him, her eyes stinging and her heart aching. In her time away with the Order, she had always been too busy missing her friends—Ron in particular—to even consider that they might miss her just as much. It made her want to gasp with the pain of it when she thought of Ron waiting for her to return, to write to him, anything to say that she hadn't abandoned him.

She looked down and started when she saw Neville's eyes open and fixed on her.

She pushed her hair back from her face, unsuccessfully trying to smooth it down. "Hello, Neville," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "How are you feeling?"

He just gave her a knowing look. She sighed.

"How much of that did you hear?" she said weakly.

"Just about all of it." He propped himself up on his elbows, and Hermione hated how much effort it seemed to take him. "I didn't know you left all that time. In Azkaban, I used to imagine what the rest of you were doing out here. It helped pass the time…and keep me sane." Hermione flinched but he went on as if he hadn't noticed. "I thought of you fighting Death Eaters, of course, tirelessly working to stop Voldemort." He smiled faintly into the distance.

Hermione was astonished to hear Neville say Voldemort's name. Perhaps after Azkaban and all its horrors, it took a lot more than a name to frighten the once-timid wizard now.

Neville looked over at her, a wry smile on his lips. "And I always imagined you and Ron getting married."

Hermione stared at him, mouth practically falling open in shock. "You thought…what?" she stammered, face going hot.

"And having little redheaded children running around your feet," he added, chuckling wearily. "It's more shocking than it should be to find how far off my guesses were, even though they were just my imagination."

Hermione drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. "I've ruined it, Neville," she said softly, her throat tightening. "I broke his heart, didn't I?"

She half hoped that he would tell her she hadn't, that all Ron needed was time, but he nodded thoughtfully. "I think so."

She sighed, resting her forehead on her knees.

"You saved me," said Neville quietly, and she looked up again. He was looking at her with wonder in his eyes, but they were shadowed as well, with all the haunting memories of his long years of imprisonment.

"Of course we saved you, Nev," she said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. He looked down at her hand as if he didn't know quite what to make of it, but to her relief and gratitude he didn't move away.

"Took you long enough," he said, and she looked at him apprehensively, only to see him grinning at her.

A deep feeling of relief fluttered up inside of her. She had been so afraid that he would be a ruined shell of the person he'd once been. But his smile looked almost exactly the way it had before he'd been locked away, and behind the haunted expression in his eyes, there was a glow of light.

He was not lost to them, Hermione realized. He was locked away somewhere, but not entirely gone.

"Thank you." His voice was barely more than a whisper, and she was startled to see his eyes shining with unshed tears. He blinked them quickly away but Hermione was certain that she'd seen them.

Hermione took his hand and squeezed it gently, opening her mouth to say something else, but she was interrupted by a banging sound in the hallway as the front door was flung open.

Hermione shot to her feet, whipping her wand out and pointing it at the doorway to the living room, heart pounding and mind racing. Neville sat up on the couch, his eyes glued to the doorway as well, every muscle in his body clearly tensed.

Willing Ron and Ginny to be silent for once, Hermione held her breath as she heard two voices waft toward her down the hall.

"I told you zey wouldn't be 'ere," someone complained in a horrifyingly familiar voice. "Zey would be foolish to stay when all of zose Death Eeters hunting zem down!"

"I had to check," a second voice murmured back, sounding disappointed. "I thought that maybe…"

Neville looked up at Hermione, eyes wide. "Isn't that…?"

But Hermione was already moving, striding across the room and stopping in the hall, staring at the two newcomers as they whirled around, wands out, to face her.

She heard footsteps running from the kitchen and Ron and Ginny into the hallway after her, Ron at the head, looking with huge eyes.

"Bill!" he cried.


	16. Chapter 15

Bill's wand hand dropped limply to his side as he gaped at the three people he faced in the hall. His mouth opened and closed as he floundered with his shock.

"But what is zis?" Fleur cried, shaking her silvery blonde hair away from her face and peering at Hermione and the others with astonishment. "What are you doing 'ere?"

Ginny made a little choked sound in her throat and pushed past Hermione before she could stop her. Hermione's immediate reaction was joy at seeing Bill—not quite as much seeing Fleur—but there was a part of her, that mistrustful suspicious part, that wondered if this could be a trick. Death Eaters in disguise perhaps?

Clearly, Ginny didn't share her worries. She flung her arms around Bill's neck and held on tight. He hugged her back, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, and Hermione felt her paranoia melt away. No Death Eater would be able to pretend that sort of reaction.

"We were looking for Mum and Dad," said Ron, still staring at Bill in amazement. "But they aren't here."

Bill looked up at him over Ginny's head, expression grave. "I came looking for them, too," he admitted. "Or anyone, really. I haven't gotten word from anyone in a while. I even stopped by George's shop, but it was deserted."

Hermione tensed and glanced at Ron, who was studiously refusing to look at her. She saw him clench his jaw at the mention of his brother. Hermione wondered where George could be now—still grieving in solitude over Fred? Punishing himself for almost killing Avery? Either way, she missed him dearly, and she knew Ron and Ginny missed him even more.

"But you're all here," said Bill, marveling. He looked down at Ginny, pulling back from her. "You're all right?"

"Of course!" Ginny cried. "Where have you been all this time?"

"We 'ave been hiding from ze Dark Lord like sane people," said Fleur somewhat scornfully.

"What have _you _been doing?" Bill asked them.

"Trying to take You-Know-Who down," Ron said grimly.

Bill looked flabbergasted. "You're doing _what?"_

"We can't live like this anymore," Hermione put in. "I hate seeing Muggle-borns punished for no reason they can help."

Bill looked at her seriously. "I hate it, too, but there's nothing we can do, Hermione. We're no match against him. The number of Death Eaters he has following him now is astounding."

"We managed to break in and out of Azkaban," said Ginny, a touch of wryness in her voice.

Bill and Fleur both whipped their heads around to stare at her.

"What?" Bill finally choked out.

That was when Neville hobbled into the room, looking pale, tired, and weak, but managing a smile. "Hello, Bill."

Bill's eyes were wide as dinner plates. "_Neville! _But…but Dad said you were in Azkaban!" His confused brain seemed to connect the dots, and he looked quickly at Ron and Hermione. "You broke him out?"

"We had to," said Ron. "We couldn't let him stay in there."

Bill walked over to his brother and stood in front of him for a moment, frowning slightly, which made the scars on his face stand out more prominently. "You could have died," he said quietly.

Ron avoided Bill's eyes. "He's our friend, Bill."

Bill reached out and clasped Ron's shoulder tightly, waited until Ron had looked up at him. "I knew from the moment Dad broke the news of where Neville was that you wouldn't be able to leave him there," he said, his voice still low. "It was incredibly stupid"—Ron flinched slightly at this—"but also incredibly brave. I'm glad you're all right. And I'm so glad to see you. All of you." He glanced around at Ginny, Hermione, and Neville, his eyes warm.

"Breaking into Azkaban!" Fleur exclaimed, sounding scandalized. "What a foolish thing to do!"

"It was very brave of them," Bill said gently, returning to her side. Hermione didn't miss the moisture in Ron's eyes before he quickly blinked it away. She kept her hands clasped tightly together, unable to forget the way he had been so angry at her when she tried to take his hand. She wondered if he was still angry with her, or if Bill's appearance had calmed him.

"So," said Bill, looking up from his wife. "What are you going to do now?"

"We've gotten Neville out," said Hermione. "Now we need to get the last Horcrux."

"Ze what?" said Fleur, squinting.

"The piece of You-Know-Who's life force that prevents us from killing him once and for all," Ron explained, and Fleur looked baffled.

"And what is this Horcrux that you've got to destroy exactly?" asked Bill, looking closely at Ron.

"Well…it's…You-Know-Who's snake," said Ron, sounding a little sheepish.

Bill blew out a long breath and shut his eyes briefly. "It would be suicide to get close enough to him to try and get that snake."

"Who else is going to do it?" Ginny burst out suddenly, sounding exasperated. "So what if it's suicide, at least we'll have tried something!"

"What about the Order?" Bill argued, beginning to get a little angry himself. "Why do you lot always have to take everything into your own hands? Is it too much to ask for you to leave it to wizards who actually have a plan?"

"We have a plan!" said Ginny defiantly, although Hermione realized with an inward wince that no, they really didn't.

Bill seemed to understand this as well, for he looked around at them with dark eyes and said, "Oh really? And what's this brilliant plan of yours?"

"Find You-Know-Who, kill the snake," Neville piped up, sounding very calm. "Simple."

Bill snorted. "That's not a solid plan!"

"All right then," Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips. "What's this wonderful plan that the Order has? Are you saying that you're on the brink of a Dark-wizard-killing weapon that will save the world and return it to the way it was?"

Bill gave her a hard look and didn't say anything.

"See?" said Ginny triumphantly. "You're no farther along than we are!"

"We're actually planning!" Bill exclaimed. "We have experts, Aurors, powerful wizards that actually stand a chance against You-Know-Who and his legion of Death Eaters!"

"What can a few silly children do?" added Fleur with a sniff.

"We aren't children," said Hermione, a little miffed. "And honestly, I think we have a perfectly good chance of defeating Vol—You-Know-Who." She wasn't in the mood for the inevitable uproar that would follow if she said his name. A moment after she had finished speaking, however, she realized that she sounded quite naïve. They were all still very young, if not children anymore, and she wasn't sure that they really did have a good chance of defeating Voldemort. They had no plan, no fighting force, nothing.

"We're planning, too," said Neville, and Hermione was surprised and impressed at how he still managed to sound so calm. It was so unlike the old Neville, who might have steered clear of this conversation that was quickly turning into an argument. "We haven't gotten far yet, but we're somewhere. Right?" He looked around at the others; Ron and Ginny were looking somewhat blankly back at him, and Hermione had to admit she was at a loss for words too, but she quickly nodded to show her support.

"And where is this 'somewhere'?" Bill demanded.

"First we have to find where You-Know-Who is," Neville said. "Which shouldn't be too hard, seeing as he rules the Wizarding world. We go there, perhaps under disguise, and we get close enough to him that we can get rid of the snake, and then get rid of him."

Hermione stared at him in amazement. He made it sound all so simple. She couldn't help thinking that it would be far harder than just that; besides not knowing where Voldemort was, not having much of a chance of getting near him or defeating him in a duel, they would need something special to destroy the Horcrux with. She wished, not for the first time, that the Sword of Gryffindor were still in their possession, but the Death Eaters had claimed everything in the school with value the day Harry died.

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Hermione glanced awkwardly away and noticed that the others did the same, and no one offered any such promise.

Bill swore under his breath. "I don't want you to get yourselves killed!"

"Oh, let zem do what zey want," Fleur said, and there was no antagonism in her voice, just weariness. Hermione looked at her in surprise. "We 'ave 'ad no luck with any of zis. Per'aps zey will be more successful than we 'ave."

Bill gave her a shocked, almost betrayed look. "I won't let my brother and sister throw themselves in to danger," he said fiercely.

Fleur put a hand on his arm, which seemed to calm him. "'Ave zey not proven zat zey are brave? Zey have fought zis Dark Lord before, and survived."

"That was Harry," Bill protested, and then broke off, looking stricken by his own words.

Hermione felt an ache through her heart and tried to keep her expression blank. That annoying, persistently pessimistic part of her whispered that perhaps it really was hopeless without Harry. The prophecy from so long ago had been fulfilled—neither could live while the other survived, and Harry had died. Did that mean that Voldemort was destined to live on?

"His friends are more zen capable of handling zemselves," Fleur said firmly. She looked at the rest of them, her beautiful eyes serious. "We cannot stay 'ere. We only came to see if Bill's parents were 'ome."

"Yes, you should go," said Hermione, as she saw Ginny open her mouth to protest. "It's not safe here." She glanced at her friends and added, "We should all go."

"Neville's not strong enough," Ginny objected. "Can't we all stay until he's recovered?" She looked at Hermione with pleading eyes. Hermione knew it must be incredibly painful to reunite with her brother, until to have to say goodbye just minutes later. Who knew when they would see each other again? But just being in this dark, dusty house was making her uneasy. Even if the Death Eaters knew the house had been deserted, that would not stop them from coming back to check on it, would it?

"I'm fine," Neville said. "Not exactly fit to play in the Quidditch World Cup, but then again, I never was."

Hermione forced a smile at his joke through her anxiety and then looked at Ron. He was staring at Bill as if trying to commit his brother's face to memory.

"We can't stay here," she said softly, wary of angering him again.

"I know." His reply was just as quiet.

"Come with us," said Ginny, spinning around to Bill and taking his arm. "You can help us!"

"I promised Fleur we wouldn't get in the middle of anything," said Bill, avoiding her eyes.

"But you said you were helping the Order!" Ginny protested.

"We 'elp when we can," Fleur told her. "But we will not endanger our lives for ze Order of ze Phoenix."

"Fleur," Bill said quietly, sounding slightly frustrated.

"So you're just running from it all?" said Ginny in disbelief. "That's it?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Don't talk to me as if I'm a child!"

"Ginny, let him go," said Ron, going over to her and taking her arm, tugging her away from Bill. "He has to do what he has to do." Hermione didn't think he looked angry about Bill's decision to stay away from the worst of the action, but there was still a bit of that emptiness to his face, the look that had come when he'd found the Burrow deserted.

Bill looked around at all of them, and there was sadness in his face, and regret, and the question of whether they would see one another again. He didn't voice any of these feelings, though; he just nodded his head, said quietly, "I hope we'll meet again soon," and with a last small smile he turned and led Fleur out the door. Hermione heard the _crack _as they Disapparated.

"He's gone," said Ginny in disbelief. "He really left."

"He had to go, Ginny."

"So he can hide like a coward?" Ginny snapped bitterly.

Hermione looked out the door where Bill had last been. "I think they're doing a little more than they let on."

"How can you—"

"Guys?" Neville said loudly, with the air of having called to them a number of times already. Hermione turned to see him standing in the living room, staring out the window. "I think it's time for us to leave."

Hermione joined him by the window, peering out from behind the dusty curtain, and gasped. Picking their way toward the house was three men, dressed in black robes. Their loud, complaining voices drifted through a crack in the window.

Hermione spun around and swept back into the hall, wrenching Ginny away from Ron, who still held tightly to her arm. They'd been fighting a moment before and now stood looking at Hermione incredulously.

"We have to go," she said darkly. "The Death Eaters are here."

* * *

**This chapter was a little slow, but don't worry there's action to come in the next one! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave a snippet of feedback!**


	17. Chapter 16

The four of them slipped out the back door as quickly as possible. The voices of the Death Eaters floated loudly toward them on the wind; it was clear they weren't trying to keep their voices down. They must have known for some time that the Burrow was empty.

"Wait," Hermione hissed, grabbing Neville by the arm and crouching behind a wildly overgrown hedge. Ginny and Ron followed suit, peering out between the branches.

The Death Eaters had stopped outside the house not far away. One of them peered into the window, cupping his hands against the glass to see into the rooms.

"Still looks deserted," he announced.

"Of course it's deserted," another complained. "It's been deserted for months! I don't see why we have to keep checking up. Those blood traitors aren't coming back any time soon."

Ron tensed beside Hermione, and she noticed that his wand was clenched tightly in his hand. She wasn't certain that any of them had the energy for yet another duel; they hadn't escaped from Azkaban that long ago, and she was still exhausted from that whole ordeal. She knew the others were as well, especially Neville.

"We're supposed to find them," a woman's voice said from beneath the hood of the third Death Eater. Her voice was raspy and sour. "That's why we keep wasting time in this old shack. The whole Order of the Pigeons or whatever they're supposed to be must be taken into custody, on the Dark Lord's orders."

"Thanks for the reminder," one of the men said sarcastically. He pushed his hood back, revealing a bald head and a face that looked permanently sunken into a frown. "We're wasting time here. The blood traitors left."

"They might come back," the woman pointed out. She tilted her head back to study the house and Hermione could hear the distinct distaste in her voice as she added, "Can't imagine why they'd want to, of course."

Ginny made an angry sound in the back of her throat, almost like a growl, and Hermione gripped the other girl's arm hard to keep her from springing out and firing hexes at the three Death Eaters.

"All right, I think that's good enough," the one who'd been peering through the window said, straightening. "Let's report back to Hogwarts."

_Hogwarts? _Hermione thought, interested.

"We haven't even looked around, you ninny," the woman snapped. "You just glanced through that filthy window! They could be hiding someplace!"

"I'm not going back in there," the one at the window huffed. "Last time I found a pixie nest upstairs."

"Search for signs of recent activity," the woman ordered without acknowledging her companion, turning on her heel and striding away from the other two. "We don't leave until we have made absolutely sure that there is no one here."

Hermione realized with a panicked jolt that the woman was walking straight toward them. If she rounded the bush and found them there…

There was no way they could give up the element of surprise.

As soon as the woman drew near enough, Hermione shot upright, pointed her wand at the startled Death Eater, and shouted, "_Locomotor Mortis!"_

The woman let out a shriek as she toppled to the ground. The men, who milled by the window, whipped around, but they had barely taken one step before Ron and Ginny had leaped out from behind the hedge and Stunned them both.

The woman watched as her companions fell, then turned a baleful glare on the four of them. Her mask had come free in her fall; she had a long, fresh-looking scar trailing down the left side of her face and rather messy brown hair. "You going to kill me?"

"That all depends," said Hermione, keeping her want trained on the woman's face. "If you cooperate, this will all be quite simple. You're going to answer a few questions, we're going to wipe your memory, and we'll be on our way."

The woman barked a laugh. "You don't frighten me. I won't tell you a thing."

Hermione noticed the Death Eater's hand inching toward the pocket of her robes. Before she could do anything, she heard, "_Expelliarmus!" _from behind and the wand the woman had just removed from her robes flew out of her hand and into Neville's.

Hermione turned back to the woman after giving Neville a grateful smile. "Where is You-Know-Who?"

The woman looked at her in disbelief. "You have me here, prostrate on the ground at your mercy, and you choose to ask me _that?" _

Hermione kept her chin high, though she couldn't help wondering if she really had asked something foolish. "Well? Are you going to answer it or not?"

"What does it matter to me? His location isn't exactly a secret. He's at Hogwarts," the woman said, confirming Hermione's suspicions after hearing the Death Eaters talk earlier. "I don't know what you're planning on doing with the Dark Lord. You want to join him? That would be a wise thing for four children like yourselves. You won't survive another year on the other side, not with what he's got planned."

Hermione's heart lurched. "What are you talking about? What's he planning?"

The woman scowled. "You think I know? I'm not high up enough to be in on what the Dark Lord has got in store. I just do all the dirty work."

"You must know _something," _said Ginny impatiently.

The woman sent her a withering look. "Even if I knew, do you honestly think I would tell you?"

"I know you," Ron said suddenly, startling everyone. "You're Bridget Williams, aren't you? You used to work for the Ministry. My dad knew you." Hermione looked at him in amazement. How could a Ministry worker have sunken so low? Perhaps more witches and wizards than she had feared were turning to Voldemort now…

The woman, Bridget, curled her lip at him. "I should have known because of the hair," she grunted. "Another _Weasley. _Arthur talked about the lot of you whenever he got the chance. Now he seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet." She tipped her head to one side, a cunning gleam in her eye. "You wouldn't happen to know where your mummy and daddy went, do you, boy?"

"We aren't here to answer your questions," Hermione reminded Bridget Williams firmly as Ron glared down at her.

"So you going to join us then?" Bridget's eyes darted around them, searching for reactions, anything to give their intentions away.

"We will never join You-Know-Who," said Ginny coldly.

"Then what are you…" Bridget trailed off, her eyes widening as if she had just stumbled upon a shocking realization. Then she broke into loud hoots of laughter. "You're going to try to _stop _him, aren't you? You're going to try to kill him! I didn't know the Order was recruiting children nowadays! They must be more desperate than we thought."

"We aren't working for the Order," Ron snapped. "And we're not children."

She sneered at him, ignoring his second remark. "You're a few hotshot kids then, is that it? You think you've got the world wrapped around your pinkie finger. If you try to stand up to the Dark Lord, boy, you are in for an incredibly nasty surprise."

"Harry Potter did it loads of times," said Neville quietly. "He beat him more than once."

Bridget gave him a hateful look. "But he died in the end, didn't he? Tried running off into the forest like a coward so the rest of you could fight for him."

"That's _not _what happened," Ron said, voice dark with anger. "He sacrificed himself to save us all."

"Didn't do much good, did it? Seems like everything's a whole lot worse than it was before he croaked," Bridget cackled.

"Be quiet," said Hermione sharply. She could see that the Death Eater's words were upsetting her friends, and herself as well. How _dare _this woman talk about Harry like he was a coward, when he had done so much for them all!

"We shouldn't waste any more time on this woman," said Neville, looking down at Bridget who continued to jeer up at them. "We know where You-Know-Who is. We should—"

He never got to finish his sentence, for at that moment a blast of light hit him in the back and he lurched forward and fell heavily to the ground. Bridget let out a screech of glee as Ginny cried out and dropped to the ground beside Neville, trying to turn him onto his back.

"Stunning spells wore off," Ron muttered, blocking another curse that had just been fired by the two Death Eaters who had recovered from the Stunning spells and who were now throwing curses at them like their lives depended upon it.

Hermione, who had been distracted momentarily by the advancing Death Eaters, felt her wand being slapped painfully out of her hand. She turned in time to see Bridget scrambling to her feet and lunging toward her own wand, which Neville had dropped when the Death Eater's curse hit him.

_No, you don't! _Hermione dived for her own wand and slashed it through the air, causing Bridget to reel back, crying out with pain and rage as an angry red wheel appeared on her hands.

She risked a glance back at Ron, who was holding his own against one of the Death Eaters while Ginny fought the other. She watched as he expertly blocked the curse of the man who'd been looking in through the window and sent his own Stunning spell back in retaliation, hitting the Death Eater square in the chest and sending him down. She felt a small burst of pride in him as she turned back toward Bridget.

Only to find that she was gone, and so was Bridget's wand.

Hermione spun in a circle, inwardly cursing herself for getting distracted. Bridget was nowhere in sight. Had she Disapparated when Hermione wasn't looking? But she hadn't heard anything—

A spell hit Hermione hard in the shoulder with enough force to knock her to the ground. She was back on her feet in a heartbeat, flicking her wand back and forth and blocking spell after spell that Bridget flung at her. The woman's eyes were bright with the rage of battle and she slashed her wand violently through the air each time as if imagining it was a knife she was plunging into Hermione's heart.

She heard a scream and automatically turned her head to see where the noise had come from. She saw Ginny fall back on her hands, but Ron jumped into the fight and forced the baldheaded Death Eater back.

Hermione turned back to her duel in time to hear Bridget scream, "_Crucio!" _

Pain exploded inside of Hermione, forcing her to her knees. She could hear a terrible screaming, and a distant part of her realized that the scream came from her own mouth. Her mind flashed back to a time when they had been held captive in Malfoy Manor, as Bellatrix leaned over her and tortured her with the Cruciatus Curse, trying to get her to talk.

Abruptly, the pain stopped, cut off like water dousing a fire. She lay on the ground in the shaggy grass, gasping and staring at nothing while her head spun sickeningly. She heard Bridget shriek and managed to lift her head.

Bridget was on the ground as well, clutching her arm, face contorted with pain and fury. Ron stood over her, his wand pointing calmly at her. Hermione heard him say quietly, "_Obliviate," _and watched as Bridget's expression went vacant and her eyes glazed over.

Ron continued to look at her for a moment, and then he turned and strode toward Hermione, dropping down on one knee beside her. For a moment they just looked at each other. Hermione could see none of his anger from before in his eyes; in fact, he was looking at her intently, in a way that she remembered well from their school days. They were close together, with only a few inches of space separating one from the other.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

She nodded slowly. "You saved me," she said in amazement, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I did."

They were close enough that she could see every freckle on his nose, the golden flecks in his eyes. She found herself leaning unconsciously closer, wanting to be rid of the small space between them—

"I erased the memories of those two gorillas, Ron—" said Ginny, breaking off abruptly as Ron and Hermione sprang apart. She looked back and forth between them, her eyebrows raised. "Well," she said, a hint of a smile playing around her lips. "Maybe I'll just go make sure Neville's all right. Give you two some alone time."

"That's not necessary," said Hermione hastily, feeling herself blush bright red. Ron stood up quickly and, to her astonishment and pleasure, he offered his hand to help her up. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. She wanted to cling to his hand forever, but instead she let it go and hurried over to where Ginny crouched by Neville.

"Just a Stunning curse," said Ginny, sounding relieved. "_Ennervate." _

Neville groaned and began to stir.

"We should leave, before the Death Eaters wake up," Ron said seriously. "They won't remember we were here, but that doesn't mean they won't attack if they wake and find us sitting in front of their noses."

"Right," said Hermione, nodding, her face still feeling slightly hot. She reached down and together she and Ginny helped Neville to his feet. Ron made as if to take Ginny's other hand, which reached for his own, but then changed his mind and took Hermione's instead. She tried not to show how much this pleased her. She peeked at his face just as Ron glanced at her. She offered him a tentative smile and his ears turned pink.

"To Hogsmeade," she whispered, waiting until they had all nodded. They turned on the spot and Disapparated, and the next thing she knew, Hermione was standing on the main road of Hogsmeade, where she could see the dark silhouette of Hogwarts in the distance. She hadn't set foot in the school grounds since Harry died; the place that had once radiated such warmth and held so many happy memories for her now looked bleak and foreboding.

"Come on," said Ron, breaking the silence that had fallen over the four of them. "Let's see if we can finish this."


	18. Chapter 17

They all decided that they needed rest before they could invade Hogwarts (all except Ginny—she was impatient to begin), and they took out two rooms in the Hogsmeade inn. They gathered in the boys' room to discuss their next move. Neville flopped down on one of the two twin beds and fell asleep almost instantly.

"It isn't safe for him to come," said Hermione quietly, looking at Neville's pale, slack face.

"It isn't safe for any of us, Hermione," Ginny snapped. She'd been in a short temper ever since they had entered the inn, and she hadn't stopped pacing. It was exhausting just watching her. "We're trying to break into the school to kill You-Know-Who. We aren't going to the market to buy milk for mummy."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples, where a headache was beginning to form. "It's different for Neville," she said, struggling to keep from snarling at the other girl. She was not in the best of spirits, either. "He's been locked up with dementors for years, Ginny. He's weak, not to mention a fugitive."

"We'll all be arrested if we fail, anyway," Ginny argued.

"It'll be worse for Neville." Ron spoke up for the first time. He had been sitting quietly listening to them go back and forth for quite some time now, and Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. He looked at his sister with serious eyes. "They'll give him the Dementor's Kiss, Gin."

Ginny stopped pacing, but only for a moment. "Fine, then. He can stay here."

"He won't like that," said Hermione, sighing.

Ginny threw up her hands in disgust. "So you're saying there's nothing we can do to keep him from coming? Why did you bring it up in the first place then?"

"I didn't say there's nothing we can do," Hermione snapped back.

"All right," said Ron loudly, interrupting whatever Ginny had been about to say. "I think it's time we drop the Neville issue for now. Maybe we should all get some sleep before we make any decisions."

"No," Hermione and Ginny said in unison.

"There's no time to sleep!" Ginny declared. "Not until we've figured all this out."

Ron rubbed his face wearily. "I'm so tired I can't even think straight. You do realize that we haven't slept since breaking Neville out, don't you?"

Hermione hadn't realized that, in fact, and his words made her exhaustion seem ten times worse. She slumped lower in her chair and considered putting her head down on the table and letting herself sleep right there.

"How are we getting in?" was all Ginny said.

They all looked at one another, at a loss.

"It's times like these I wish I knew what happened to Harry's Invisibility Cloak," said Ron.

"Some Death Eater is probably trotting around in it," Ginny said, a low quiver of anger in her voice. She turned away and strode across the room, stopping in front of the window and staring out of it.

"I don't know how we'll get in," Hermione murmured, her eyelids drooping. "But if we managed to get into Azkaban, this shouldn't be a problem."

"Yeah, well, You-Know-Who wasn't there," muttered Ginny, though she didn't sound as agitated as before.

There was another long stretch of silence before Hermione said, "I think Ron's right. A good night's rest might be the solution."

"It won't solve anything." Ginny still sounded mutinous, but she didn't argue any further as she left with Hermione to go to their own room. Ginny immediately climbed into one of the beds and shut her eyes. A few moments later, the frown smoothed off of her face and her breathing deepened.

So exhausted she could barely see straight, Hermione collapsed onto the other bed and instantaneously fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione woke to someone shaking her violently by the shoulder. She turned her head and opened her eyes groggily to see Ginny leaning over her, her eyes huge and full of excitement.

"Hermione," she said urgently. "I've just had an idea."

Hermione blinked at her. "An idea for what?"

Ginny made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "For getting into the school! Get up and meet me in the boys' room." And with that she vanished from Hermione's bedside.

Still not entirely awake, Hermione dragged herself across the hall to the other room. Ginny had gone back to pacing, though with renewed energy. Ron leaned against the wall, looking half-asleep, and Neville sat in bed, watching Ginny move back and forth with a bemused expression on his face.

"Finally!" Ginny exclaimed upon Hermione's entrance. "What took you so long?"

Hermione plopped into the wooden chair against the wall and didn't bother answering.

"All right, Ginny," said Ron tiredly. "What's this brilliant plan you've come up with?"

Ginny paused and looked around at each of them, biting her lip with uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Spit it out," said Hermione impatiently. She just wanted to go back to bed.

"It's risky," Ginny began. "Very risky. Possibly incredibly stupid as well."

"So is everything else we might do to get in," Ron pointed out.

Ginny nodded, looking slightly reassured. "But the risk is concentrated on just one person in my plan." She paused one last time, as if for effect, and then said in a rush, "I think that one person should get captured and go in alone."

Hermione, Ron, and Neville stared at her.

"I should probably rephrase that," said Ginny, furrowing her brow in thought. "One person should let themselves be captured by the Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Then that person makes a commotion big enough to distract most of the Death Eaters, so that the rest of us can get in with only a few duels to deal with. Then the captured person gets the Death Eaters to bring them straight to You-Know-Who, and that's where we'll meet up. Then we kill the snake, and…well, you know what comes after that."

There was a long beat of perfect silence after Ginny finished, in which they all looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"That," said Ron, "is the worst plan you have ever come up with."

Ginny's expression of anticipation lapsed into a scowl. "It's a good plan!"

"But Ginny," said Hermione, trying to be as patient as possible, "what will we kill the snake with?"

Ginny looked at her, the hope in her eyes fading into disappointment as she realized the major hole in her plan—which was one in many.

"And what kind of commotion could possibly occupy all the Death Eaters that are probably at Hogwarts right now?" Ron added, shaking his head. "And what if the Death Eaters kill whoever goes in there on the spot? Or they refuse to take them to You-Know-Who?"

"All right," said Ginny, somewhat sullenly, "I get it. You can stop pointing out how horrible my plan is."

"Actually," Neville piped up thoughtfully, "I think you've got something there."

"Neville!" Hermione was appalled. What had possessed him to encourage insanity like this?

"I do?" Ginny had already brightened again.

"No, you don't," Ron growled, giving Neville a warning glance that he ignored.

"Yeah," said Neville. "Sure, it's risky, but like Ron said, anything we try will be risky." Ron opened his mouth as if to protest, but no words came out. He looked as if he were silently cursing himself for making that comment. "If one person went in and let themselves be taken prisoner, it would definitely warrant the attention of a fair amount of Death Eaters. All four of us are wanted for arrest now. They would all want to come and see who was stupid enough to walk right into Hogwarts and get caught like that."

"Whoever goes in there could get killed, Neville," said Hermione, desperate to make him reconsider his opinion.

"We could all get killed," Neville replied, shrugging one shoulder. "Or none of us could. That's the thing, Hermione, we don't know. We don't know what will happen. But maybe it's worth taking the chance."

"You see?" Ginny rounded on Ron and Hermione. "He knows what I mean!"

Hermione felt even wearier than she had the night before, if that were possible. She had expected this sort of recklessness from Ginny, but timid, cautious Neville? Then she realized, looking at him, that he was not timid and cautious anymore. He had changed from that person, into someone who was willing to risk his life for the lives of others.

"Unless you have more Polyjuice potion?" said Neville mildly, looking at her.

Hermione gritted her teeth and muttered, "No. We used it all."

"Any other ideas?"

Hermione glanced at Ron helplessly. He looked as lost as she felt.

"Fine," she said finally, causing Ron to give her an astonished look. "We'll use Ginny's plan."

"But it's mental!" Ron burst out. "It could get us all killed!"

"Better to die trying than not try at all," Ginny put in with a defiant look at her brother.

"Ginny's right," said Hermione, struggling against the bad feeling that was growing in her chest. "We have to try something."

"We can contact the Order," argued Ron. "They'll help us get in!"

"They wouldn't, Ron," said Hermione quietly. "If anything, they would come only to stop us from trying. And we don't have time to get word to them anyway."

"Or to think of a better plan," Neville murmured, so quietly Hermione barely heard him.

Ron passed a hand slowly over his face, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

Hermione braced herself for him to walk out the door, like he had those years ago when they'd traveled with Harry to find the Horcruxes. She had felt as if her heart were being torn to pieces when he left; she wasn't sure she could take it a second time.

But then he said, "Okay."

Hermione shared a startled look with Ginny. "Okay? That's it? You'll do it?"

Ron sighed impatiently. "I never said I wouldn't do it," he muttered. "I just said you were all nutters for considering it."

Hermione tried to mask her relief, clearing her throat and saying, "Right. So who's going to get captured?"

She had said it merely to cover her joy that Ron had agreed to the plan, but only when deep silence met her words did she realize that it was the most crucial question she could have asked.

After a long time of staring at one another, Neville said, "I'll go."

"No, you won't," said Ginny sharply, before Hermione could. "You just escaped from Azkaban. They'll kill you as soon as they see you, or give you the Dementor's Kiss, or whatever horrible thing they can think up. And you're too weak to fight anyone. We think you should stay here."

Hermione inwardly groaned. She would not have picked those words to break the news to Neville, who was now clearly bristling with indignation.

"I'm not staying here!" he exclaimed. "And I'm not weak."

"You've spent almost five years in Azkaban, mate," said Ron gently. "You got out, what, two days ago? Maybe not even. Give yourself a chance to get your energy back."

"And what happens if you all die in there?" said Neville fiercely. "Do you think I'd ever forgive myself? I'd turn myself in if that happened."

"_Neville," _Hermione gasped, distressed. "Don't say that."

"I'll do it," he threatened. "What reason would I have to be free if you were gone?" He looked so sad then, his eyes shadowed as if he were remembering the horrors of his prison, and Hermione couldn't bear the idea of him walking back up to Azkaban to let the dementors have him.

"You can help," she said, not looking at Ron and Ginny, who she knew were gaping at her. "But you have to be careful, Neville. Don't overdo anything. And you are _not _the one being captured," she added firmly.

"Then who?" Ginny demanded.

"Not you," Ron said at once, and Ginny glared at him.

"Why not? You don't think I'm strong enough to take care of myself?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

"What is it going to take to prove to you that I'm not a baby anymore?"

"Definitely not giving yourself up to the Death Eaters. You can prove it some other way."

"Ron, you are a pigheaded ninny," said Ginny venomously. "I can do this!"

"I agree with Ron," said Hermione, and both of them swung around to look at her. Ron looked victorious, Ginny betrayed.

"Ron and I were Harry's closest friends," Hermione went on calmly, hardly aware of what she was saying. "Everyone knows it. We'd be the ones to cause the most uproar if we went in. You-Know-Who himself would want to see us, I'm sure." _And finish us off, _she added silently.

"You see?" said Ron triumphantly to Ginny. "Hermione thinks—"

"That's why I'm going," said Hermione, and Ron broke off mid-sentence to stare at her in disbelief.

"No!" he nearly shouted. "There's no need for you to go! I'll do it."

"No, Ron," said Ginny in a strange voice. "I don't think you should."

Outraged, Ron spun around to face his sister, but she went on before he could start yelling. "Hermione thinks fast on her feet. She's great with spells. She would know just what to say to get them to take her where she needs to go. I bet she could come up with the best distraction out of any of us."

Hermione was touched by Ginny's faith in her. Ron, however, was thinking differently.

"It's too dangerous," he said angrily, now addressing Hermione again. "I won't let you go."

"It's not a matter of you letting me," she said testily. "Ginny agrees that I should go. Neville?" She twirled on her heel to face him. He looked a little alarmed by the ferocity in her gaze.

"I-I think Hermione should go, as well," he stammered. He looked sheepishly at Ron. "Sorry, but what Ginny says is true. She'd be better than any of us in a situation like this."

"This is rubbish." Ron was starting to sound desperate, and his face was so pale his freckles stood out more starkly than ever.

"Three against one, Ron," said Ginny.

"Then it's decided," said Hermione as briskly as she could. "I'm going."

"Hermione." Ron's voice was just a whisper, breaking at the end of her name. "Please. Don't go."

Without answering, Hermione turned away from the devastated look on Ron's face and tried to ignore the pain it drove into her heart like knives.


	19. Chapter 18

**Getting toward the end here guys! Thanks soooo much for all your reviews! **

The four of them stood side by side just outside the school grounds, staring at the towering black castle that had once been their school. Hermione expected to feel something as she prepared to walk to what could very well be her impending doom, but she just felt numb.

Even from where they stood, it was not difficult to sense the evil that had settled over Hogwarts like black fog. There were no cheery lights in the windows, no students crossing the grounds to get to their final classes of the day. Hermione could swear she felt the unmistakable chill of dementors nearby as well.

How could Hogwarts have been twisted so utterly? How could someone be heartless enough to change something that was so beloved and good into something of darkness?

"Maybe we shouldn't do this." Ginny's voice was quiet. "We can come up with another plan."

They all looked to Hermione, waiting for her reaction.

"No," she said, keeping her eyes on the school so she wouldn't have to see their expressions—one expression in particular. "It's too late to turn back. Practically every Death Eater and Snatcher is on the lookout for us. We broke Neville out of Azkaban, and they want us punished for that." She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice calm. "If we hang around in a place as public as Hogsmeade, we won't last another day."

"And what happens if we succeed?" Ron said roughly. "Everything just goes back to normal?"

Hermione didn't look at him. "Perhaps it will."

For a moment no one said anything. Then Hermione said as briskly as she could, "Don't forget to look high and low for the sword. Or perhaps you can get into the Chamber of Secrets for another basilisk fang." She flinched inwardly as she remembered how, at the Battle of Hogwarts, the day Voldemort took over everything, she had gone down into the Chamber with Ron.

There was no time to think about that now.

"We'll find the sword, Hermione," Neville murmured. "You don't have to worry about that."

She smiled faintly at him. "Thank you, Neville."

"I suppose we should get on with it, if we're really doing this," said Ginny, swallowing audibly. She turned to Hermione, anxiety and fear and sadness in her eyes. "You'll make it out okay," she said fiercely. "We'll make sure of it."

Hermione forced a smile. "Of course I will." She did not believe her own words, and clearly neither did Ginny. The redheaded girl moved forward and threw her arms around Hermione.

When she pulled back, she was glowering through the tears in her eyes. "Come back or I'll kick your arse," she threatened, angrily wiping her eyes.

Hermione gave a choked laugh before turning to Neville. He hugged her as well, whispering in her ear, "We'll end it tonight, Hermione. All of us together."

Hermione drew away, smiling and trying to hold back her own tears. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned to the last person, who stood away from the group with his hands in his pockets. His head was down so she couldn't see his face. She walked slowly over to Ron, stopping in front of him.

"Ron," she said softly, and waited until he looked up at her. He blinked fast, trying to rid himself of the moisture in his eyes, and she felt her heart ache with sorrow.

"You don't have to do this," he whispered. "We can walk away right now. The Order can deal with this."

Hermione shook her head. "Walk away to what, Ron? The life of a fugitive? Hiding under rocks until the danger has passed? That isn't what Harry would have wanted." She felt her throat tighten and paused, trying to regain her composure. "He was always fighting," she went on quietly. "He was always protecting the people he loved. He died to protect _us, _Ron. We can't run away from what he left behind for us to finish."

Ron looked over her head, his expression blank. "I know," he said simply.

Hermione reached out and took his hand gently in hers. He looked down at their interlocked fingers, and Hermione stepped closer.

"Hermione, we have to get going," said Ginny urgently, glancing edgily around the streets as the sun continued to set. "The Death Eaters will be out soon."

"I'll see you soon," Hermione whispered to Ron, hating the tears in his eyes, hating the way he wouldn't look at her, hating that she had to do this. And then, without really realizing what she was doing, she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

It was not the kiss she had been dreaming about for five years. Though it lasted only a moment, it was even better than she had imagined, and pulling away nearly ripped her in two.

Without another word to any of them, without looking back, Hermione strode toward the looming castle, her shoulders back and her head held high, because this was what she was meant to do.

* * *

It was surreal, walking the familiar path up to Hogwarts. It had been years since she'd come here, and yet it felt like only yesterday. It felt like if she were to turn around, she would see Ron and Harry laughing together on the path just behind her. The thought made her eyes sting and her breath hitch in her chest.

She passed Hagrid's hut, its windows dark. She refused to let her imagination run wild with this; Hagrid was fine. He could take care of himself. Even if he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore, he was somewhere safe, raising baby dragons and Blast-ended Skrewts and whatever other horrible creatures he could find on this planet.

The silence of the grounds faded as she neared the castle. There were loud noises coming from inside, harsh laughter and shouting. Hermione gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep moving forward. She could see the front door now, guarded by two Death Eaters who didn't seem to be paying much attention to their surroundings. They were laughing at some joke they'd shared and didn't notice her until she was almost right in front of them.

"Excuse me," she said as politely as she could manage. "I'm here to speak to Lord Voldemort, please."

They swung around to stare at her in absolute shock.

"Who do you think you are, using his name like that?" one of them spluttered in amazement.

Hermione drew herself up, holding herself with dignity. "I am Hermione Granger," she said loftily. "I think perhaps you've been looking for me."

The Death Eaters exchanged astonished looks. They wore no masks, and Hermione could clearly see the grins that crept slowly across their faces.

"Reckon it's really her?" one of them muttered. "If we bring her to the Dark Lord and it's not, we'll be dead men by sunrise."

The other walked slowly toward her, as if afraid she would disappear if he moved too quickly. He peered at her closely, and Hermione resisted the urge to turn her face away in disgust at his stinking breath.

"It looks like her," he mused, eyes wide. "But no way would Hermione Granger walk up to the Dark Lord, unless she'd gone barking mad—"

"Maybe she has," suggested the other, beginning to sound excited. "Let's take her to someone who would recognize her."

"I want to see Voldemort," said Hermione sharply. "I will not be taken to any of his cronies to be eyeballed—"

"You aren't going to one of his 'cronies,' dove," the one who still breathed into her face whispered. "You're going to his right hand Death Eater."

Hermione looked at him uneasily, her confidence steadily ebbing away. She hadn't let herself think about what might go wrong before now, but it was clear that this was going to be next to impossible.

The two Death Eaters flanked her on either side and began to march her into the castle. Hermione tried to wrench her arm away from one of them but he held fast.

"Where are you taking me?" she snapped.

"I think it would be best if you went straight to the Headmistress herself," the Death Eater replied. Hermione's eyes widened, and he noticed her expression with a nasty grin. "That's right. You're going to have a little chat with Bellatrix Lestrange. Then we'll see if you're lying."


	20. Chapter 19

It was eerie walking the halls of Hogwarts again. If Hermione ignored the Death Eaters flanking her on either side and focused on the corridor ahead of her, she could almost pretend that nothing had changed.

"Wait here with her," one of the men muttered to his companion as they stopped just outside the doors to the Great Hall. "I'll fetch Headmistress Lestrange."

Hermione's stomach constricted sourly as he slipped into the room full of noise and cacophony in front of them. _Headmistress Lestrange. _That title did not belong to that monster of a woman and it never would. Hermione had heard rumors of what happened here thanks to Bellatrix's reign, and it all sounded horrifying.

The Death Eater that guarded her kept shifting and fidgeting with excitement. Sometimes he muttered to himself. "Wonder what she'll give us if we've gotten her the real Hermione Granger…" He cast her fervent looks that made her want to curse him, but they had taken her wand away before escorting her into the castle. She knew exactly where it was—in the pocket of the one who had gone into the Great Hall.

The Death Eater returned, looking both eager and afraid. "She said to take her up to her office," he said, jerking his chin at Hermione. "She's already gone up."

"Did she say if she thought it might be her, Max?" the other said anxiously.

Max scowled at him and snapped, "I didn't describe her, you stupid brute! We'll just have to see when we introduce the two of them."

They surrounded her again, and Hermione could feel their anticipation as if it were a tangible thing in the air. She was glad they didn't march her straight through the Great Hall; she wasn't partial to that sort of humiliation.

Every step she took in her old school was like a needle twisting its way into her heart. She missed this place desperately, and all the old memories that came along with it. It seemed that everywhere she looked she was reminded of Harry, or Professor Dumbledore, Fred and George, all the countless people who had been lost thanks to Voldemort.

The Death Eaters walked straight up to the gargoyles that had guarded Dumbledore's office for as long as Hermione had been there. "Pureblood," the Death Eater called Max said, with a brief smirk at Hermione.

The gargoyles sprang aside and Hermione wanted to shut her eyes against the emotions seeing the spiral staircase brought on. The three of them stepped on and as they moved upward, Hermione's heartbeat raced faster and faster. She stared at a spot on the wall while the two Death Eaters murmured nervously to one another, arguing about whether Bellatrix would punish them badly if they got the wrong girl.

The staircase stopped and they stepped out, facing the doors to the Headmistress's office. Hermione stared at the doors, which were the very same doors that had once been the entrance to the office of Dumbledore, but they looked different now. There were long scratches on the front, as if some creature had dragged sharp claws across its surface, and it was decorated with locks, most likely enchanted to keep out intruders of any kind.

Max cleared his throat and stepped forward after a brief argument between the two of them deciding who would announce their presence. He knocked gingerly on the door and called with a strained voice, "Here with Hermione Granger, Mistress."

There was a pause, and then a horribly familiar voice, muffled through the door, sang back, "Come in!"

The locks clicked open all at once and the doors swung open. Hermione could only stand there rigid and stare.

She was not sure what she had expected. She supposed a part of her had anticipated walking through the doors to see Dumbledore seated at his desk, surveying them over his half-moon spectacles with Fawkes perched beside him. She knew that had been a foolish expectation, but the appearance of the office itself shocked her. She had not been prepared for this.

The office that had once been bright and cheerful, full of curious instruments that had always interested Hermione, was like a different room entirely. What little light there was had a strange, bluish color, casting the room in ominous tones and throwing shadows in the corners. The portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses were gone, and the wall was covered with an array of news articles, old photographs, and what appeared to be letters.

Hermione could read some of the bigger headlines from where she stood, and they made her blood turn icy. _Lord Voldemort takes over Wizarding world once again. Bellatrix Lestrange appointed Headmistress over Hogwarts. Mudbloods taken to trial and murdered publicly. Mass Muggle homicide by Death Eaters. _Some of them appeared to be articles from before the _Daily Prophet _had been wrestled into submission, but even they were displayed proudly on the wall as if they reflected how great the Dark Lord's power was.

There were things on shelves and tables that twisted Hermione's stomach. Rotted dragon hearts and withered severed hands that still twitched spasmodically, Dark objects that seeped evil into the room, a cage in the corner that held a hunched creature whose breath rattled and who emitted periodic, guttural growls. It reminded Hermione a bit of Borgin and Burke's, but more sinister even than the Dark shop.

And in the middle of the room was a huge black desk, covered in messy papers and quills, with claw marks that matched the ones on the door. Sitting behind the desk, looking hardly different than the last time Hermione had seen her, was Bellatrix Lestrange, her face still pale and sunken, her eyes still mad from years of imprisonment in Azkaban.

There was a hungry look in her gaze now as it swept over Max, who stood nervously in the threshold. "Well?" she whispered, and her voice made Hermione shudder. "Where is she? Did you bring her?"

"Y-yes, miss," Max stammered, clumsily stepping aside and reaching back to yank Hermione forward. Hermione stumbled but managed to keep her footing. She straightened and locked her eyes with Bellatrix's.

Bellatrix stood up so abruptly she sent papers flying. Her eyes were round and her mouth hung open slightly with shock. Then, a smile curled her lips, a mad smile full of glee that Hermione wanted to run from.

"Hermione Granger," she said, and her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I thought you were supposed to be the bright one. Not too smart if you walk straight into the heart of the enemy." She cackled with delighted laughter and Hermione felt a stab of hatred toward her.

"So it's her?" Max asked hopefully, eyes lighting up.

"Oh, it's her. I would remember that bushy hair anywhere." Bellatrix slowly rounded her desk, as if afraid that Hermione would disappear if she moved too quickly. Her eyes never left Hermione's face, and Hermione refused to look away. "Go," she commanded the Death Eaters.

Max's face fell. "But Headmistress," he protested, "don't we get—"

"I said _go!" _Bellatrix screamed, whipping her wand out and sending a jet of light at Max, sending him flying back out the door. The other Death Eater, looking terrified, darted out as well, and the doors banged shut behind them.

Hermione and Bellatrix stood facing each other for a long moment, Bellatrix's heavy breathing filling the room, a smile still hovering on her face.

"I've been looking for you for a long time," she whispered, stepping closer. Hermione forced herself to stand her ground. "Ever since you escaped at the manor, and then here, at this school." Her eyes narrowed and her smile turned crueler. "Did you come back because you thought you would take an honorable end like your little Potter friend? He was running to save himself, girl. No matter what you hear, he didn't care if you lived or died. He was a coward."

"You're wrong." Hermione's voice was cold. She was surprised at how steady it sounded. "Harry Potter was the bravest person I have ever met. Far braver than you'll ever be."

Bellatrix's smile twisted. "He was a child," she hissed. "He was nothing but an obstacle standing in the way of this great new world!" She threw her arms wide, her wand still clutched in one hand.

"Great new world?" Hermione could feel anger rising inside of her, blocking her throat and chasing away her fear. "You mean a world where no one has a free will of their own? Where everyone has to constantly watch over their shoulder if they leave their house? Where Muggles and Muggle-borns are persecuted for no reason? Where innocent people are thrown into Azkaban while the likes of you run free? This is not a great world. This is _hell." _

Bellatrix crossed the space between them in a few steps, holding her wand to Hermione's throat. Hermione did not break eye contact, staring the other woman down as best she could as her hands started to shake.

"You will hold your tongue," Bellatrix whispered. "Or I will rip it out of your mouth."

"I want to see Lord Voldemort," Hermione said.

"What did I just say?" Bellatrix shrieked, slapping Hermione across the face. "You will _not _speak his name with your filthy Mudblood lips."

Hermione, her face stinging from the slap, tried to look defiant as she said, "What are you going to do with me then, if not bring me to die at his feet?"

Bellatrix pressed the tip of her wand hard against Hermione's throat. "I'm going to finish what I started that day five years ago, in the Malfoy Manor," she snarled. "I'm going to watch you writhe and scream until your mind cracks, just like those pathetic little Longbottoms." Her smile widened as she saw the fury in Hermione's eyes. "And when you are on the brink of death, your mind shattered and your body broken, I will stand over you and laugh until the last breath of life leaves your body."

Hermione fisted her hands, trying to stop their shaking. She had not prepared for this. She had expected that Voldemort would want to see her, would want to gloat over her capture, give her a chance to fulfill the reason she'd come here. She had not factored in Bellatrix, and her insane vendetta against the Mudblood that had escaped her.

"I will enjoy every last moment of this," Bellatrix said gleefully. She stepped back, eyes bright with excitement, and Hermione felt sick. Unable to help herself, she shut her eyes, bracing herself for the pain.

"_Cruc—"_

A loud pounding on the door cut Bellatrix off mid sentence. She gave a low scream of frustration and with a harsh jerk of her wand, the doors flew violently open and a student stumbled into the room.

Hermione stared. It had to be a student—he wore the school robes, though the Hogwarts insignia had been replaced with the unmistakable symbol of the Dark Mark. His face was bruised and scratched, and he held his arm gingerly as if it pained him. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and pure terror spread across his face when he looked at Bellatrix.

New rage bubbled up inside of Hermione. How could they abuse their students like this? How could anyone, even Bellatrix, believe that this was a great new world?

"What is it?" Bellatrix all but screamed at him, her wand clenched tightly in her fist.

The boy recoiled from her, and stammered out shrilly, "P-please, Professor, I have a message for you from the D-Dark Lord."

Bellatrix somehow managed to look even more excited than before. "What is it?" she repeated in a hushed, reverent voice, as if she were speaking to Voldemort directly. "What does he want of me?"

The boy shot a frightened look at Hermione and whispered, "He wants to s-see the Mudblood, Headmistress."

Hermione felt no anger that this boy would call her such a horrid name; she felt only sadness. These children were being brought up to be Death Eaters; they were being set on the path of evil right from the start. They did not deserve this. No one did.

Raw disappointment crossed Bellatrix's face. Hermione felt bitter amusement; what a shame that she would not be able to torture her to death after all.

_Too early to hope for that, _Hermione thought heavily.

"I see," said Bellatrix coldly. Her eyes glinted with rage as she looked at the student, and she screamed, "Get out!"

She slashed with her wand and the boy crumpled to the ground with a wail. Hermione automatically started toward him, but Bellatrix froze her with another flick of her wand.

"Leave him," she seethed. "The Dark Lord awaits."


	21. Chapter 20

Bellatrix's wand dug into Hermione's back as they walked down corridor after corridor. Hermione already had a feeling of where they were going. Voldemort would want an audience for this; there was no doubt about that.

Sure enough, Bellatrix turned the last corner and pushed Hermione toward the Dining Hall. Voices spilled loudly out of it, though they weren't the cheerful chatter of students.

Bellatrix threw the doors open with a bang, and every heard swiveled around to stare, student, teacher, and Death Eater alike.

Hermione fisted her hands at her sides as she took in the Dining Hall, so different from what she remembered. The light had been enchanted to look dull and gloomy, the ceiling that had reflected the weather outside permanently changed into a flat, depressing gray. The tables were full of students, somber and silent, keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact. Hermione was certain they were being forced to attend Hogwarts; surely there was no other explanation for coming here.

The staff table had few familiar faces. There was no sign of Professors Sprout or Flitwick, though Hermione could see Professor Trelawney slumped in her chair, staring numbly at her full plate. The rest of the teachers appeared to be Death Eaters, with even more Death Eaters sitting at a table nearby, the source of the raucous noise.

And sitting on a chair that was at least a foot higher than the rest, long white fingers curled over the arms of his chair and snakelike eyes raking the room and coming to rest on Hermione, was Lord Voldemort.

He looked no different than he had the last time Hermione had seen him. His eyes were still piercingly red, his face flat with no lips and slits for a nose. In one hand he carelessly twiddled the Elder wand between his fingers. Hermione tensed at the sight of it, thinking of how that wand had been the wand that had killed Harry, that had doomed them all—

"Well," said Voldemort in his high, cold voice, and the room instantly went silent. "What have we here?"

Bellatrix spoke, her voice shaking with excitement and her eyes wide with reverence as she looked up at him. "The Mudblood Granger, my lord. As you requested."

His eyes narrowed at her. "I requested no Mudbloods. They tend to ruin my appetite," he said, and the Death Eaters roared with laughter. Hermione continued to stare at Voldemort, hating him more and more as the seconds ticked by.

Bellatrix, who had stepped forward to address Voldemort, looked like she had just been slapped in the face. "The boy," she spluttered, "he told me—"

"Never mind that." Voldemort rose from his chair, an imposing, pale figure, and slowly ghosted toward them. "I would not pass up an opportunity to speak with one of Harry Potter's dearest friends."

A hissing followed his words, and a massive snake slithered out from beneath the staff table, causing Professor Trelawney to shriek and nearly topple backward out of her chair. The rest of the teachers barely blinked at its sudden appearance. Tongue flicking in and out, Nagini wound her way around Voldemort until she was settled across his shoulders. He reached up and stroked her head with one long finger, still appraising Hermione.

Hermione stared hard at the snake, willing Ron, Ginny, and Neville to come soon. She imagined Ron running in with the Sword of Gryffindor in his hands, slicing the head off of Nagini and piercing Voldemort through the heart in the same swing—

What was she thinking? This was no time to daydream. She squared her shoulders and met Voldemort's red stare steadily, clearing her mind in case he tried to dig into her thoughts.

"Ah," he said softly. "I see you are a practiced Occlumens."

Hermione was fervently grateful for the lessons she had taken in her time helping the Order. She had never quite imagined being in this position, though…

"No matter. There is nothing in your mind that I wish to see."

"My lord," Bellatrix said, sweeping him a ridiculously low bow. "She walked straight into the castle willingly."

Voldemort's eyes flashed coldly. "She gave herself up?"

"No," said Hermione boldly, causing the watching eyes of the students and Death Eaters to flick to her. "I came to give you a message."

She was making this up wildly as she went along, hoping that it was not evident that she had no idea what she was talking about. A part of her screamed that this was extremely stupid, that she could get herself killed by lying like this, but she couldn't stop now.

"A message?" Voldemort sighed, the sound coming out more like a hiss. "The Order sends little girls to convey their messages now? They have grown even weaker than I thought."

"I am not a little girl. And the Order is stronger than ever," Hermione said fiercely. She wracked her brain frantically for something important enough that would warrant her walking to her own death. "They want you to know that they have found reinforcements, and they are coming for you." The words sounded hard and cold in her mouth, convincing.

For just a moment, she thought she saw a hint of doubt enter Voldemort's face before it passed and he gave her an icy smile that chilled her to the bone. "I do not fear the Order. My greatest enemies have been destroyed." He spread his arms out and looked around at the room full of people. The Death Eaters burst into roars of triumph, as if it had been only moments ago that they'd achieved their sought after victory, and not years. Some of the students, Hermione realized with a pang, joined in the shouting.

"You think you've gotten rid of all your enemies, do you?" _What are you doing? _a panicked voice whispered in Hermione's head. _Shut up before you get yourself killed! _But a fiery, angry feeling was growing inside of her chest, pushing words out of her mouth. She took a step toward him, and several Death Eaters tensed nearby, wands out and ready. "You're wrong."

"Is that so?" There was amusement in Voldemort's voice. He was not taking her seriously. This only made her angrier.

"It doesn't matter that Dumbledore's gone," Hermione said, her voice growing louder. "It doesn't matter that Harry's gone." She almost choked on the words. She forced herself to continue, her voice trembling slightly with anger, "As long as you are in power, you will always have enemies. You will always have people who want to tear you down, and someday, they will succeed."

"And you are that person, I suppose," hissed Voldemort, walking slowly closer. Hermione tried not to look at the wand that he still twirled between his fingers. "You think you've come here to kill me. I'm afraid that _you _are the one that is wrong, Hermione Granger."

Hermione shuddered at the sound of her name in his soft, cold voice. She began to grow uneasy as he walked ever closer, his eyes fixed on her. She did not want him any closer. In fact, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible, at the other end of the world.

He stopped in front of her and looked at her for a long moment. Hermione could hear Bellatrix's excited pants somewhere beside her, but she could not tear her eyes away from Voldemort's to look over. He seemed to have trapped her in his hateful, blood-colored eyes, keeping her prisoner.

"You are intelligent, I am told," he said softly. "More intelligent than most. Resourceful, as well. You would make a fine Death Eater."

Hermione felt disgusted. She opened her mouth to say something, or scream at him, or perhaps spit on his face. But he went on before she got the chance.

"It is a shame you are a filthy Mudblood, lower than slime."

Hermione squeezed her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking. She refused to break eye contact, though his eyes seemed to be burning into her, filling her with despair and fear and hatred.

"I would kill you where you stand," he whispered, "but you have information on the whereabouts of the Order."

"So you are afraid of them!" Hermione knew the words were foolish the moment they came out of her mouth.

He blinked, slowly, at her. "They pose no threat to me. Nevertheless, I will take great pleasure in killing them all."

With that he turned away, his robes billowing around him, and swept back toward his tall throne, saying coldly over his shoulder, "Put her somewhere until I am in need of her."

Bellatrix's fingers closed tightly around Hermione's arm, and before she knew it she was being whisked out of the hall, too frozen with shock to do anything about it.

Only when Bellatrix, cackling, had locked her in a small room that Hermione had no memory of from her own school days did she realize all the mistakes she had made.

Hermione leaned against the wall and slid slowly down it until she sat on the floor, putting her face in her hands. She had let her temper get the best of her; her tongue had run off and left logical thought far behind it. She had blown their plan, their only chance to get this over with. She was supposed to be creating a diversion large enough for her friends to make their move, not getting herself locked up!

She lifted her head and stared dully around the room, realizing for the first time that it was a small, empty classroom that had never been used, cleared off all furniture and decoration. Somehow, the windows had even been removed. She wondered how many cells like this one were placed throughout the school.

She sat that way a long time, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them, struggling against her despair as it threatened to overwhelm her. She had been foolish to think that she could do this; they had all been foolish. Bill and Fleur were right. What could the four of them do that the Order couldn't?

After a while, Hermione heard a key in the lock. She didn't bother looking up. It would only be Bellatrix, here to make good on her promise to torture her to death, or some other Death Eater come to mock her.

She was not expecting the soft, breathy, and familiar voice that she heard.

"They didn't put you in a very nice room, did they? I suppose that's because you said you wanted to kill You-Know-Who. Be careful, Barmwarts like to gather in empty rooms like this. They'll pull out all your hair if they get the chance."

Hermione's head snapped up. Standing in the threshold, eyes huge and luminous and still as distant as ever, was Luna Lovegood.

"Luna!" Hermione gasped, positively stunned. "How did you—why are you—what are you doing here?"

She gave Hermione a vague, slightly puzzled look. "Hello, Hermione. I'm here to get you out, of course."

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_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing guys! It means a lot! _


	22. Chapter 21

Hermione was dumbfounded. She had expected a lot of different possibilities to happen while she was locked up in her little cell, but this was not one of them.

She shook her head in disbelief as Luna reached out a hand to help her to her feet. "What are you doing at Hogwarts? It isn't safe here!" Then she noticed the robes the other girl was wearing, the hood lowered to expose her white-blonde hair, and her heart sank straight to her toes. "Oh, Luna…you didn't!"

Luna looked down at herself in surprise. "Oh, these," she said. "The Order put me here to work undercover."

Hermione's mouth nearly dropped open. "So…you're pretending to be a Death Eater?"

Luna smiled serenely. "I'm quite good at it, too."

Hermione was amazed. Luna was one of the last people on earth she would expect to make a convincing Death Eater.

"It was me who sent that little boy to tell Bellatrix that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted to see you," Luna added, her huge eyes wandering around the little room as if making sure there were no invisible terrors that threatened them. "I do hope he's all right. I would have gone myself, but I didn't think she would take my word for it. Bellatrix doesn't trust me."

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about a year. I've gotten George Weasley to give me some of the items he and Fred used to sell, you know, the ones from the Skiving Snackboxes? I sneak them to the students, and then I volunteer to take them to the hospital. Instead of taking them to St. Mungo's, we sneak them back to their families, and then they go into hiding. The Death Eaters don't bother taking roll, so they don't notice they're gone." She beamed at Hermione, who was at a complete loss for words.

"You've been helping children escape?" she breathed, her heart swelling with warmth for her friend. "Luna, that's so noble!"

"We can't do many at a time, in case someone notices that there are fewer students," Luna said. "But we get the ones who are the worst off."

Hermione just shook her head in amazement.

"Shall we go?" Luna asked, smiling slightly. "I suppose you remember the passageway that led into Aberforth Dumbledore's house? We still use that to sneak the students out. You can use it to get out, too, if you like."

"I can't do that. Ron, Ginny, and Neville are waiting to get in. We have…a job to do."

Luna tipped her head slightly to one side, surveying Hermione with her wide eyes. "You want to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she stated.

Hermione sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"I knew when I heard that you'd come willingly that you had a reason for coming here. Come on, let's find the others." She drifted out of the room, and Hermione hurried after her, glancing warily down the corridor, but no one seemed to be guarding her.

"It's impossible to leave that room unless the door is opened from the outside," Luna said serenely, as if she'd read Hermione's thoughts. "No one expected anyone to try to release you. It would be a death sentence."

Hermione bit her lip. "You shouldn't be risking yourself like this for me, Luna."

"You're my friend, Hermione. It's my pleasure."

"O-okay."

Luna gave her another smile and then started off down the corridor, her hands clasped behind her back. Hermione walked close beside her, keeping her head down in case someone rounded the corner and spotted them.

"Any idea where Ron, Ginny, and Neville might be?" Luna asked her.

"Er…no. I'm supposed to be creating a diversion large enough so that they can get into the castle, get close to You-Know-Who and kill the snake."

Luna nodded like this was a perfectly normal thing to say. "I can help with diversions."

"I can't ask you to do that—"

"You don't have to," she interrupted simply. Hermione had forgotten how much she liked Luna.

"Is there anyone else who might be willing to help? I'm not asking for anyone to put themselves in danger," she said quickly, "but—"

"I'm not the only one undercover here, Hermione," said Luna. "And you'd be surprised how many of the Death Eaters are tired of being one. If it comes down to a fight, it won't be as one-sided as you might think."

Hermione nodded, unsure of what else to say.

"Now, about that diversion." Luna took Hermione's hand and dragged her down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Hermione stumbled after her, growing nervous when she saw the anticipatory look in Luna's eyes.

"Puking Pastilles weren't the only thing George gave me," she said happily, and Hermione felt a strong twinge of foreboding.

A few minutes later, Hermione found herself standing in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by piles and columns of objects. It wasn't the storage room that had held the diadem Horcrux; this looked as if all of the supplies had been accumulated over only a few years' time, and most of it looked actually useful.

"We've been storing things in here in case we ever find a need for them," said Luna, breezing between the teetering towers of boxes. Hermione followed her, a little worried that at any moment she was about to be buried beneath the mountain of extra robes that loomed over her head.

"Here is where we keep our Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes supply," Luna announced, stopping in front of a large gathering of crates and looking at them fondly.

Hermione stared around at the supplies, impressed by how much had been acquired. "Is George still supplying you now?"

"Oh, yes. Although I haven't gotten in touch with him for a few weeks." She frowned, and Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. If they had not made George come with them to get the Polyjuice potion, setting him off and making him attack Avery, perhaps he would still be secretly supplying the undercover Order at Hogwarts. Hermione wondered sadly where he was now.

Luna started rummaging in the crates. She looked back over her shoulder and said, "Well? Start looking."

"What am I looking for?" Hermione asked, bewildered, as she hesitantly sifted through the contents of the nearest crate.

Luna gave Hermione a strange look, as if she had asked a foolish question. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs, of course."

For a moment Hermione just stood there looking at her. She had gone through many possible diversions in her head, from pretending to agree to confess all of the Order's secrets to going on a suicidal rampage, cursing everyone in sight. But never once had she thought of fireworks.

"Keep looking," Luna said, and then added dreamily, "Careful, though, there are a lot of nargle nests in the boxes, since it isn't the season for mistletoe."

Deciding to overlook this last comment, Hermione helped Luna go through the boxes until, at last, they found a huge supply of Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs, filling at least three and a half crates.

"I think there are some Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in here as well," Luna said, beginning to pile the fireworks on the ground.

"Where are we going to find a place to set these off without someone catching us?" Hermione wondered.

"In the Great Hall."

"The Great Hall!" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Luna, there are loads of people there, everyone will notice us—"

"Unless we do it in the middle of the night. There are only a few guards stationed inside the castle at night. The rest of them are put outside."

Hermione felt her stomach twist with apprehension, but she didn't protest again. It didn't matter if they were caught. As long as they managed to set off the fireworks, she had succeeded in what she had come to do. Hopefully her friends could take over from there.

"How are we going to get all of these fireworks into the Great Hall without being seen?" Hermione asked, staring at the mess of colorful fireworks at her feet.

Luna frowned slightly. "You like to point out problems, don't you?"

"No, I'm just saying that we have to be—"

"Hagrid will bring them for us," Luna said calmly, causing Hermione to freeze mid sentence and stare at her with a mixture of astonishment and wild hope.

"Hagrid? He's alive? He's here? Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Bellatrix makes him stay on as the groundskeeper," Luna replied, her voice sad. "He's more of a slave than an employee now, really. She keeps trying to change him into some sort of secret weapon. She's already taken away his little brother and tried to train him to fight. Poor little thing." She sighed.

"Grawp?" Hermione was surprised by how much this upset her. She hated the thought of the giant, even though he scared her to death, being taken from the only friend he had and forced to fight for Voldemort.

Luna nodded. "You go hide somewhere by the Great Hall. I'll be there with Hagrid in a few minutes."

She turned toward the door, but Hermione caught her arm. "Wait," she said. "I'm coming with you."

Luna gave her a little smile and replied, "It's nothing dangerous. You can't be following me all over the castle, people will get suspicious." She started to leave again, and then stopped, her eyes lighting with an idea. "Oh, I nearly forgot. I think you should have this." She turned and disappeared between two rows of tottering objects, returning a moment later with some silvery material in her hands.

Hermione gasped softly and automatically reached out to stroke it, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, which she immediately blinked back. She could hardly believe her eyes.

"Luna," she whispered. "How did you get this?"

Luna's eyes were sad as she looked down at the Invisibility Cloak. "I found it not long after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took over. I hid it so none of the Death Eaters would find it. I haven't used it. It just felt wrong. But I think you should. You were his best friend, and he would want you to have it."

Hermione forced the lump in her throat away and put her arms around Luna, holding her close. "Thank you. This means…a lot."

She stepped back and threw Harry's old Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders, stepping out of the Room of Requirement, new strength and determination surging through her.

She had a diversion to create.


	23. Chapter 22

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Sneaking through the halls of Hogwarts beneath the cover of the Invisibility Cloak was almost like a dream, or a distant memory. Hermione had to crouch slightly to make sure her feet wouldn't occasionally flash into view, yet it still felt like she had too much cloak to spare. There should be two more under there with her, taking on every adventure they could find.

But now was not the time to let herself dwell on memories. Hermione crept toward the Great Hall, trying to be as quick as possible without letting her footsteps make noise. She wanted to get this done tonight, before Neville, Ron, and Ginny worried that something had happened to her and decided to march in without a diversion to keep the Death Eaters' attention away.

Once she reached the Great Hall, she pressed herself up against the wall, scarcely breathing as a pair of laughing Death Eaters walked right past her without pausing. As she waited, she watched as several students hurried by her. There were two kinds at the new Hogwarts, she noticed—the kind that kept their eyes fixed on the floor, their faces pale and tired and who didn't talk or make eye contact with anyone, and the kind that swaggered down the halls much like Draco Malfoy used to, clearly comfortable with their position in the school.

Hermione also couldn't help noticing that some of them had visible injuries on display. A lot of them sported bruises or small cuts on their faces, while others even had their arms in slings or limped heavily. It made her boil with anger to imagine these children being forced to attend Hogwarts and abused when they came.

It took a long time for Luna to catch up with her. Just when Hermione began to worry that something had gone wrong, she saw a flash of pale blonde hair at the end of the corridor. It was Luna, drifting along in that serene, calm way of hers, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening, and like she wasn't about to aid in the killing of Lord Voldemort.

And behind her—Hermione's heart felt like it was soaring through her chest at the sight of him—was Rubeus Hagrid in all of his gigantic glory.

Hermione had to stop herself from flying out from underneath the cloak and throwing herself at him. He looked a little different than she remembered—perhaps a little older, with a few gray streaks in his bushy black mane and beard, a few more wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes. There were bruises on his face and his friendly black eyes looked far more serious than she was accustomed to them looking, but he was still the same Hagrid.

Luna began to make a strange crooning sound in her throat, her eyes darting around the hall and drawing curious stares from passersby.

Hermione crept closer and, still under the cover of the cloak, hissed, "What are you doing?"

Luna turned her head toward the sound of Hermione's voice, looking mildly surprised. "The signal, of course. It's the cry of a wamplewort—"

"Never mind."

"Hermione?" Hagrid whispered cautiously, his eyes looking straight through her. "Tha' you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered back, voice quivering slightly. "It's me. Oh, I've missed you, Hagrid—"

"There will be time for reunions later," said Luna sternly. Hermione found it hard to tear her eyes off of Hagrid's familiar face, his eyes shining with happy tears.

"Good to have yeh back," he muttered. Hermione smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek, reaching out to pat his huge arm. He floundered in the air with his hand for a moment, found her back, and gave her a good pat, sending her stumbling several steps forward and nearly causing her to lose hold of the cloak.

"All right, Hagrid, set them down right here," said Luna, gesturing vaguely with her hand to the floor. Hagrid set the crate stuffed full of fireworks at her feet, muttering something about how stupid it was to light fireworks in the middle of the school.

"All we have to do is light them now, and then the others can sneak in without too much trouble," said Luna with satisfaction. "I don't suppose you have a wand, Hermione, so go ahead and take mine."

"What?" Hermione stammered, backing away from the wand being offered to her. "No. Luna, I couldn't possibly. You need it to defend yourself."

"What are you supposed to do then?" Luna asked, furrowing her brow and staring at the place where Hermione stood with disturbing accuracy.

"I'll…I'll manage. I know who has my wand, and I'll get it back."

"All right." Luna turned to the crate of fireworks and pointed her wand, preparing to light them and begin the chaos.

Hagrid reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, nearly pushing her to the floor. "I don't think this is such a good idea," he said. "Too dangerous."

"Hagrid, there's no other way," Hermione insisted quietly. "Unless we wanted to start a huge fight—"

Hagrid shook his bushy head. "Me and Luna are managin' just fine here. We don' need yeh riskin' yerself like this, Hermione. We're getting the students out all righ', even if it is a little slow going."

"Please let me do this," she whispered, dropping her voice as a pair of young, scared-looking students hurried by them. "I can't just sit by and let things go on the way they are. Harry wouldn't have."

Hagrid winced, his eyes once again filling with tears. Hermione thought back to the day it had happened, how Voldemort had forced Hagrid to carry Harry's body back in his arms. She doubted it was something the gentle giant would ever get over, and it was another reason to hate Voldemort.

"All righ'," he said at last. "All righ'. Yeh just take care o' yerself, Hermione. Don't wanna lose yeh, too."

"You'd better go, Hagrid. Wouldn't want to be an accomplice," said Luna gently. Hagrid nodded, his eyes sweeping the area where Hermione stood, who had the urge to take off her cloak so he could see her perhaps for the last time, but she knew she couldn't do that in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Good luck," he muttered, turning and lumbering back down the hall, glancing over his shoulder several times as he went.

Hermione forced her mind back on the issue at hand. Her heart was pounding as Luna shot a small flame out of the tip of her wand, igniting the fuse of one of the fireworks.

"I would back up if I were you," said Luna serenely, moving back to give the crate a wide berth. Hermione hurried after her just as there was a deafening _BANG _from behind. She spun around and stared in awe as the show began.

As soon as the first firework went off, the rest quickly followed. Huge, fiery dragons swooped through the air over Hermione's head, surrounded by whirring pink pinwheels and aerials that blotted out the entire ceiling with their sparks. Hermione found herself grinning as she watched the display, reminded of a time in fifth year when the twins had set off their entire supply just to cause trouble for Umbridge.

Students were gathering to watch, their sunken faces filled with a wonder that probably had been absent from their lives for months. Death Eaters ran back and forth, shouting in a confused panic. Hermione almost laughed at their bewilderment, but a flicker of bright red hair through the crowd distracted her. She did a double take, looking more closely, but whoever the hair belonged to had disappeared.

She hoped it was Ron and the others; she hoped that they would be able to find something that could kill the snake and get it over with. She wanted it all to be finished.

But of course, nothing was ever that easy.

A Death Eater sprinted past her, waving his wand wildly at one of the fireworks only to yell in frustration as it multiplied into even more fireworks. Hermione had to press her hand against her mouth to stifle her laughter as he continued firing spells into the air, only making matters worse. One of his fellows was screaming at him to stop, but he seemed too overcome by rage to listen.

Hermione was too busy watching the red-faced Death Eater to be on the lookout. She didn't see the female Death Eater racing toward her, trying to get to the man that was multiplying the fireworks at an alarming rate. The woman collided with her and they both crashed to the ground.

Hermione landed facedown on the floor and gasped as the breath was driven out of her. She rolled onto her side, her mind fuzzy with panic as she saw her own hand braced on the floor in front of her. The cloak had slipped off.

She fumbled for the corner of it to draw over herself again, but it was too late.

"Granger?" the woman said in disbelief, looking up from her swelling wrist. "You're supposed to be locked up!"

Hermione instinctively made a grab for her wand, forgetting that it was not sitting in the pocket of her robes as usual. The Death Eater, still looking like she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, raised her wand and pointed it at Hermione's chest. "_Petrificus Totalus." _

One hand still curled stiffly around the cloak, Hermione felt her body go rigid and her heart plummet straight to the soles of her feet.

The woman leaned over her, hands braced on knees and long dark hair falling around her face. She didn't look particularly malevolent; simply curious. "I reckon I'd better get you back where you belong," she said, flicking her wand so that Hermione's body lifted off the floor.

Hermione wanted to scream, more out of frustration than anything else. If she had just been watching the activity around her, this Death Eater would not have run into her, and she would still be stowed safely beneath the cloak.

Helpless and completely immobile, Hermione had no choice but to let herself be whisked off down a corridor by the woman, until the sounds of the fireworks and the shouts from the Death Eaters faded behind them.

Hermione tried to fight off her rising panic. It didn't matter what happened to her now. She had, hopefully, gotten her friends into the castle. They could take care of the rest. She'd accomplished her job. That was all that had been asked of her, right? So why did she fell as if she had failed?


	24. Chapter 23

_There's some POV switching in this chapter! We'll get to take a little peek inside Ron's head…_

**~RON~**

Ron Weasley had done a lot of difficult things in his life. His school days had been a jumble of trouble, adventure, and danger ever since his first year, one seemingly impossible task after another. But as Ron watched Hermione walk up the castle path straight toward the heart of the enemy, he was finding it quite hard to think of anything more difficult than letting her go.

He stared at her until he couldn't see her anymore, and even then he kept on staring. Ginny reached out and gently touched his arm, her usually fierce eyes soft. It reminded him of the closeness they'd shared before their family had gone their separate ways in an attempt to draw Death Eater attention away from them.

"She'll be okay," she murmured. "She always is."

Ron fought back the despair smothering his chest and nodded, forcing himself to turn away from the hulking castle.

"Now what?" asked Neville, his face forlorn.

"Now we wait for her diversion," Ginny replied curtly, turning on her heel and striding away from them.

"How will we know what the diversion is?" Neville demanded as he and Ron followed. "And where are we going to wait for it? It's going to be dark soon. The Death Eaters will be out."

"I'm aware of that, thanks," Ginny said dryly. "We can't go back to the inn in case the innkeeper told the Death Eaters about us. We'll just have to wait in there." She pointed toward the shadowy trees that she seemed to be heading straight toward.

Neville's already sallow face turned paler, and even Ron couldn't help a pang of apprehension.

"The Forbidden Forest?" he said, a hundred memories rushing through his head.

"We aren't allowed in there," said Neville nervously, perhaps forgetting that they were no longer in school and sounding so much like the old Neville that it made Ron long for the past.

"Don't be a bunch of cowards," snapped Ginny without slowing her stride. "It's just a forest."

Neville seemed to shake off his worry as they approached the dark forest, and Ron forced his misgivings away, too. He would not be the only one out of the three of them to show fear.

"Won't there be enchantments to keep out intruders?" asked Neville.

"Everyone knows the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds. I doubt there will be enchantments inside," said Ginny dismissively, though Ron caught her fisting her hands. Perhaps she wasn't as confident as she sounded.

They reached the forest without being challenged. Ron had a feeling the Death Eaters would swarm the grounds after dark. His mind was stuck on Hermione, trying to imagine where she was now, whether she was safe or not. A nasty voice in his head kept suggesting that she had been killed on sight, or dragged to Azkaban, or perhaps even given the dementor's kiss. There was no way Voldemort would let a criminal that huge hang around his domain.

_No, _he thought fiercely, angrily ripping leaves off of a twig he'd absentmindedly picked off the ground. _She can do this. She's the smartest person I know. She'll be fine. _

Ginny plopped down on the ground and leaned against one of the tall trees with a sigh. She slanted a glance up at Ron, who felt too restless to sit. "I bet this place has a lot of memories for you," she said, and he looked away, a little angry that she would bring it up.

"I'm going to scout around, make sure no one's eavesdropping," said Neville suddenly, turning and disappearing into the trees. Ron watched him go, wanting to call him back. He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with Ginny right then. She had that look in her eye she used to get when she had something to say, and nothing was going to stop her from saying it.

"You know, this whole time you've been treating me and Neville like we're just tagging along on your big adventure," said Ginny, not quite looking at him. "Like this entire time,_ destiny_ has chosen you and Hermione for this job, and you happened to pick up some sidekicks on the way."

"When have we ever treated you that way?" Ron demanded, irritated. It was just like the times when they were little, and Ginny used to complain to their mum when Fred, George, and Ron wouldn't let her play Exploding Snap with them.

"Is it because you were Harry's best friends?" Her voice was quiet, muted by the thick trees around them. "You think that because he started this, it's your duty and your duty alone to finish it?"

Ron said nothing, because a part of him did believe that. He and Hermione had been the ones hunting Horcruxes with Harry, not Neville and not Ginny. But he knew it would make her angry if he said it.

"Did you forget I loved him, too?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He stared at his sister.

She had an odd expression on her face, her mouth slightly puckered and a fierce look in her eyes as she stared straight ahead, her arms folded tight across her chest. "I knew you'd forgotten," she went on. "You act like you and Hermione were the only ones who ever cared about him. But I loved him. I don't care if you think it was just a stupid fling. It was a lot more than that. I was destroyed when he died, and I still haven't healed."

Ron dug his fingernails into his palms. He hated hearing this; he hated seeing the pain she couldn't quite conceal from her face, knowing that all of the years he had lost contact with his family, his little sister had been suffering.

"So this is my job, too," she said softly. "I'm finishing it for him. And I'd like to think that, if he were still alive, he'd be proud of me."

For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Ron, almost out of reflex, said, "He would be."

She fell silent after that, and Ron found he had nothing else to say, so he looked through the trees at the lights of the castle and tried not to notice the tears on her cheeks.

* * *

As darkness gathered and hours passed, Ron decided that he was slowly going mad with stress and worry. There had been no signs of "diversions" that he could see, unless it was happening deep within the school and they were missing the entire thing, losing their opportunity to get inside without getting caught. He could sense the tension in the other two as well; Neville had returned from his scouting trip and sat drawing in the dirt with a stick, his shoulders hunched. Ginny could not keep still; she paced back and forth in the trees, sometimes disappearing to do who-knew-what, sometimes just staring blankly at Hogwarts.

_Come on, Hermione, _Ron thought desperately. _Please be all right. _

He half-wished Ginny would offer him more words of comfort, but either she was angry with him for their conversation earlier, or she just wasn't in the mood. It was probably a bit of both.

"Maybe we should move closer," suggested Ron, needing to move out of the trees, which were starting to make him feel claustrophobic. "We could be missing something."

Ginny gave him a withering look. "There are Death Eaters everywhere, Ron. What makes you think we could get closer without getting blasted into the moon?"

"It was just a suggestion," he muttered, trying not to let his temper get away from him.

"A bloody terrible suggestion," Ginny snapped.

"It's more than you've come up with," Ron growled back, curling his hands into fists. He was stressed enough as it was about Hermione; he didn't need Ginny sneering at him.

"Yeah? Why don't you take your suggestions and shove them—"

"Wait," said Neville abruptly, lifting his head and staring wide-eyed at the school. "Look!"

Ron glanced over, and then did a double take. Fireworks were bursting out of the windows of the first floor, snapping and popping with booms that traveled across the grounds to their ears. He'd been too busy arguing with Ginny to hear it before.

Ginny whooped and punched the air with her fist. "She did it!" she cried. "I knew it!"

Heart soaring in his chest, Ron took off toward the castle without waiting for the others. Hermione was all right—she'd created a diversion for them, but that didn't even matter to him at the moment. All he cared about was that she was alive, and well enough to set off fireworks. He wanted to crash through the doors and catch her up in his arms. He had wasted that last kiss by standing frozen with shock as she touched her lips to his. He would make up for it the next time he saw her; he swore it.

Ron waited for curses to come at him from all directions as he barreled across the open grounds, but none came. The Death Eater guards must have gone to see what the commotion was about, or perhaps they mistook Ron and the others for one of their own in the darkness.

They reached the front doors and Ron forced himself not to throw them open with a bang loud enough to be heard over the shrieking fireworks. Instead he opened them just a crack and slid inside, holding it open for Neville and Ginny to follow. Neville was breathing heavily, looking a little ill from the run over, and Ginny grabbed his arm to hold him upright.

It looked like every student in the school had gathered to watch the show, _ooh_ing and _ahh_ing at the brilliant explosions of color and sound. Ron tried to keep his head low, wishing he wasn't so tall and that he didn't have a conspicuous shock of bright red hair. He knew the most important thing was to get out of there and find a secluded spot to plan their next course of action, but he was more concerned with raking the room with his eyes in search of a certain bushy-haired girl.

His triumph had withered already. What if they had caught Hermione as she set off the fireworks? What if they had her right now? Maybe she'd given herself up in order to create this diversion. Maybe he'd never see her again. Maybe—

"Keep moving," Ginny hissed from behind him, her voice barely audible over the noise. Ron swallowed and tried to focus, weaving between the students and panicking Death Eaters until he managed to fight his way into a separate corridor.

Neville and Ginny stumbled out after him, Neville taking huge gulps of air and bending over to prop his hands on his knees. Ginny patted his back, looking concerned.

"You all right, Nev?" Ron asked.

Neville managed a nod through his labored breathing. Ron would have to try to keep in mind that he was still weak from all that time locked up in Azkaban, and this whole ordeal must be taking a lot out of him.

"Now what?" Ginny murmured, glancing toward the sounds of the fireworks that blared through the door.

"We find Hermione," said Ron at once.

"I think we should find something to kill the snake with first," said Neville breathlessly, shooting Ron an apologetic glance.

Ron opened his mouth angrily to protest, but Ginny interrupted him. "Neville's right. What do you think, Ron? Should we find some basilisk fangs?"

Ron forced himself not to argue on the point of finding Hermione; he knew it would be useless if they found her, were discovered, and had to abandon their mission. Then all of this would have been for nothing.

"Might as well," he said, pushing back his anxiety. "Come on."

They ran down the corridor as quietly as they could manage, heading toward old Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. They had only reached the second floor when voices made them stop in their tracks. One of the voices was more like a growl, familiar but lacking the usual hate and gloom it had once held; it sounded gleeful.

"Filch," said Ginny disgustedly. She grabbed Ron's wrist and the back of Neville's robes and dragged them through the nearest door, shutting it tight behind them.

The voices drew closer, and Ron barely dared to breathe. The room was pitch black; he hoped Voldemort hadn't taken a liking to keeping spiders as pets. He imagined them crawling over him in the darkness and shuddered, getting the urge to brush nonexistent creatures from his arms. Filch and his companion passed the door, and just as their voices began to grow fainter, there was a crash from beside Ron and Neville started cursing.

The voices stopped and Ron's heart felt like it would leap out of his chest. He felt Ginny clutching his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin. He held his breath as he listened to the silence outside the door.

He counted to ten, then twenty, and was beginning to relax and hope that perhaps Filch had not heard them after all when the door of their hiding place was thrown open. Light spilled in, revealing that they were standing in a cramped broom closet. Neville was hunched over clutching his knee, a pile of scattered buckets and mops surrounding him. He must have tipped them all over.

Filch stood in the doorway, eerily silhouetted by the orange torchlight. He gave them a smile that Ron remembered all too well from his school days—the sort of look a cat would give a trapped mouse.

"Oh dear," said Filch softly. "We are in trouble, aren't we?"


	25. Chapter 24

If there was one thing Hermione was certain of, it was that she was not being taken back to her cell. This did not come as a relief; if she wasn't going back to that small, windowless prison of a classroom, that meant she was going somewhere far worse.

Still being floated down the hall like a stack of wood, Hermione was helpless to the situation. The Death Eater that guided her stiff body with her wand looked calm, and she even hummed softly to herself. She didn't seem malicious, though she didn't exactly seem to have a guilty conscience, either. She looked like she knew this was where she was meant to be, and what she was meant to be doing, and she would not hear a single argument against it.

Hermione wanted to scream at her, but her voice was locked up inside her throat by the binding spell. _Why are you doing this? Do you really want Voldemort to destroy everything? Do you really want to lay me down at his feet and watch him kill me? _

The woman turned a corner and suddenly Hermione dropped from the air, hitting the ground with an impact that knocked the breath out of her. At once, her limbs were released from the curse and she could move again. She jerked into a sitting position, gasping as she tried to drag air back into her lungs.

The Death Eater was studying the ground in that same calm, self-assured way. "Why, would you look at that," she said, folding her arms and tipping her head to the side as if surveying a piece of complicated art. "There's a scuff in the floor. I really should get Filch to fix that."

Hermione continued to sit and stare at her, dumbfounded. Perhaps this woman was out of her right mind.

"I really should be working," the woman said, a little more forcefully. "But I just can't focus when I know that there is a scuff on this nice floor. Perhaps I'll stare at it for a few moments longer." She added meaningfully, "Wouldn't want to bother the Dark Lord _in the dungeons _just because of a little scratch like this."

It clicked. Hermione scrambled to her feet, her thank you sticking in her throat. She didn't think this Death Eater wanted her gratitude; she was merely giving her one chance, and one chance alone, to escape while she could. Hermione had no doubt that in only a few seconds' time, the woman would easily go back on her offer, curse her again, and carry her off to Voldemort.

Hermione ran. She looked back over her shoulder, but only once, to find the woman still closely scrutinizing the floor. She turned a corner and paused to catch her breath, her mind struggling to wrap around what had just happened.

A Death Eater had spared her. Did that mean that there was still good in people, even those who had joined the Dark Lord? Or could that have been one of the "undercover Death Eaters" that Luna had spoken of?

Hermione began to walk, striding purposefully toward the dungeons. It seemed a little counterproductive, having just escaped being taken to Voldemort, only to go to him willingly right afterward. But she had no choice.

With any luck, Ron and the others would already be there, or hiding nearby, ready to kill the snake. And then, at last, Voldemort would die at the point of her wand, just as she'd been imagining for five long, painful years.

* * *

The instant sense of dread and guilt that accompanied the sight of Filch reminded Ron vividly of his school days. It was easy to associate the caretaker with detention. But this time there would be no detention—it would be a much worse consequence than that.

A Death Eater stood just behind Filch, peering into the storage closet with a perplexed expression. "What the devil are they doing in there?" he demanded.

Filch's jowls quivered with joy. "They're members of the Order," he snarled. "Thinking they can hide away in a broom closet."

"The Order?" the Death Eater repeated sharply. "Bring them out at once." Ron decided that he very strongly disliked this man, and would have even if he weren't a Death Eater. His pompous attitude reminded him painfully of his brother Percy.

A rough mew from Filch's feet made Ron look down and swear under his breath. It was Mrs. Norris, old and skinny, her lamplike eyes filmy with age, but still there all the same.

_Why won't that damn cat die?_

"You heard him," Filch growled, looking like he was taking great pleasure in this. "Out."

"You can't order us around," said Ginny, fixing him with a glare. "You aren't a threat to us. One Death Eater and a Squib—ha!"

Filch's face turned an unhealthy shade of purple and he spluttered for words. Ron reached for his wand, but before he could utter a single spell, a calm, "_Expelliarmus," _sent his wand flying out of his hand, through the open closet door, and into the hand of the Death Eater. And, to his horror, so did the wands of his friends, too.

"Oi!" he shouted angrily, starting forward only to be held back by Ginny and Neville. "Give us back our wands, you slug!"

"Ron, don't," Ginny hissed at him. "He has four wands at the moment, I really don't think we should be provoking him."

The Death Eater, who wasn't much older than them and had an irritating smirk on his face, twirled all three of their wands through his long fingers. "Didn't your mummies ever teach you not to be disrespectful to your elders?"

"If you think we'll go with you just because we're unarmed," said Neville quietly, "you're wrong."

"Am I? Perhaps you'd rather come in pieces, then?"

Ron's temper was rising quickly. He hated the man's confidence, the way he looked at them down his nose like they were nothing more than troublesome children. He clearly didn't feel they were threatening enough to take seriously, especially without their wands.

If he believed that, he had another thing coming.

Ron reached behind him and grabbed the first thing his hand came into contact with—which was, in fact, a bucket. Seizing the element of surprise, he swung the bucket at Filch's head with all his might. Filch howled and staggered backward, holding his bleeding nose, and Ron darted out of the closet, followed closely by Ginny and Neville, who had taken up cleaning weapons of their own—Neville held a mop, while Ginny wielded a plunger like a sword.

Mrs. Norris hissed at their weapons, hackles raised. Ron glanced at Filch, who still moaned over his face, and wondered what was hidden beneath the tarp in his bucket that had been heavy enough to break the caretaker's nose.

"Oh, my," the Death Eater said mockingly, ignoring Filch's pitiful whimpers. "Cleaning supplies. Whatever shall I do?"

Ginny took a swing at him with her plunger, but he merely sidestepped it with infuriating calm and flicked his wand, sending her weapon flying clear across the corridor where it hit the wall with a pathetic thump and fell limply to the ground.

Ron clenched his teeth. Despite the arrogance and irritating demeanor of this person, he was very skilled with magic. It didn't help matters that he was in possession of their wands, and they were left fighting like Muggles.

Neville went for it next, smacking the Death Eater smartly in the knees—perhaps meaning to knock his legs out from under him—but it did little damage besides making the man wince. He stepped nimbly onto the end of the mop, kicking it backward and ripping it out of Neville's hands.

Before he could fully recover from Neville's attack, Ron dove at him and swung the bucket at his head, just as he had with Filch—

And the bucket exploded inches away from the man's face.

Ron stumbled a few steps backward, for a moment wondering if the impact of the attack had destroyed his weapon, but the Death Eater stood looking insultingly bored, twirling his wand idly between his fingers.

"You'll have to do a lot better than that," he taunted.

Ron looked down at the remnants of the bucket, and his eyes fell on what he had thought to be a piece of tarp or scrap cloth—but it was neither of those things.

It was an old, beaten hat, with a rip near its hem that could almost have passed as a mouth.

Ron's heart felt like it was trying to thud its way out of his chest. He lunged for the hat, snatching it into his hands and holding it tight so that the Death Eater couldn't hope to grab it away. But the man seemed disinterested in the hat; in fact, he watched Ron's wild dive for it with amusement, making no move to stop him.

"By all means, go ahead," he chuckled. "Hit me with your little wizard's hat. I'm sure it'll do loads of damage."

Ron shut his eyes for a second, willing the hat to pull through for him like it had for Harry. Reaching in, his heart in his throat, at first he felt nothing but empty air. Disappointment threatened to smother him, until—

There! His fingers wrapped around something cold and solid, and he yanked upward, withdrawing a heavy, glittering sword that send energy flooding through Ron's whole being.

Filch and the pompous Death Eater gaped, perhaps trying to figure out how a full sized sword had come to be sitting in the beaten up hat Ron held in one hand.

"That's the Sword of Gryffindor," the Death Eater stuttered. "That's supposed to be locked up in Miss Lestrange's office—"

Ron pointed the sword at the Death Eater's chest, hoping he looked sufficiently threatening now. "Drop the wands," he said authoritatively, and, to his amazement and triumph, the Death Eater's fingers opened as if he had been burned, and all the wands—including the man's—clattered to the floor, where Ginny scooped them up and distributed them to their owners, pocketing the Death Eater's.

"Please," the man said weakly, all of his bravado having vanished. He was now trying to turn big, pleading eyes on the three of them, begging for mercy that he never would have granted them. "Don't kill me."

Filch made a muffled sound from behind his bleeding nose, his hands still clamped over his face. It must have been a noise of agreement.

For a moment, Ron considered tossing them out the window, but that would have been too conspicuous.

"I'll think about it," he said. "First, answer this—where's You-Know-Who?"

"In the dungeons," the man said at once, feeling no qualms about betraying his master when his own life was on the line.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron, and with that Stunned him and then Filch. He, Ginny, and Neville locked them in the broom closet—along with Mrs. Norris—and didn't give them a second thought.

"Wow," Ginny breathed, staring at the sword with huge eyes. "It came out of the Sorting Hat. Just like it did for Harry in the Chamber…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew sad as she looked at the sword, perhaps imagining a different wielder standing before her.

Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably and held up the hat. "What should we do with this?"

"Put it in your pocket," suggested Neville. "It doesn't deserve to get thrown back in a broom closet."

Ron nodded in agreement, slipping the bedraggled hat into his pocket and feeling a wave of fondness for it. He had never once imagined that the Sword of Gryffindor would appear for him—Harry was the one that had the true spirit of a Gryffindor, brave enough to wield the founder's own sword. Not ordinary Ron Weasley, forever overshadowed by his older brothers.

He gripped the hilt tighter, pride pulsing through him, nodded to his friends, and started off down the hallway again, feeling stronger, taller, and braver than he ever had before. Ginny and Neville walked silently beside him as they headed for the dungeons, where maybe, finally, they could end this.

_Hang on, Hermione, _he thought fiercely. _I'm coming. _

* * *

Hermione had been overjoyed to find that the Invisibility Cloak had stayed clutched in her frozen hand throughout her trip down the corridors with the Death Eater woman. The very thought of leaving it behind to be trampled by hundreds of feet, maybe even stolen by a curious student or worse, a Death Eater, had been devastating. This was Harry's cloak, a memento of his legend, and Hermione couldn't bear to part with it again.

She slid it silently round her shoulders, instantly feeling better as she disappeared from sight. It also provided a smidgeon of warmth from the chill that steadily worsened as she descended into the dungeons. She wasn't familiar with this part of the castle, and she had been wandering for several frustrating minutes, but now she was standing in front of a pair of large wooden doors. She could hear voices from behind them; creeping closer, she pressed her ear against the door to listen.

"Fireworks?" the high, cold voice of Voldemort said, his tone sending chills down Hermione's spine. "Why would there be fireworks in the school at all?"

"I don't know, sir," answered a very nervous man, whose voice sparked a sense of recognition inside of Hermione. "But we can't seem to get rid of them. It's worked the school into a frenzy—"

"Control the situation." Voldemort cut him off, having no patience for excuses. "Do not disappoint me again, Lucius. I have forgiven you more than enough times."

Hermione felt her heart jolt in her chest at the sound of Lucius Malfoy's name. She had begun to think that he had fled from Voldemort's service, being too weak to handle the pressure. She should have known that he wouldn't leave without Draco, and seeing as he'd been stationed at Azkaban, he had obviously not deserted.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius Malfoy murmured, his voice quaking pathetically.

Running footsteps made Hermione spin around. The very same woman who had just let her escape was running toward her, following another male Death Eater. For a moment Hermione was certain they had seen her and were going to tackle her to the ground. She sidestepped them and they raced right past her, through the door and into the room. Hermione slipped in after them before the door could close, careful not to let the hem of the cloak catch on the knob.

The room was large, with a high ceiling that made everyone's voices echo back to them. It was cold and gray and seeped darkness—although that could have been the presence of Voldemort, who sat in a throne-like chair with his white, spidery fingers templed together. Nagini was draped around his shoulders like a grotesque shawl.

The woman and the other Death Eater had stopped, panting, at the foot of Voldemort's throne. "My lord," the woman said, bowing her head to him. "The Mudblood has escaped."

Hermione had to smile, even though she didn't quite appreciate being called a Mudblood. The woman was making herself out to seem as much of a dumbfounded victim as any other Death Eater—taking herself out of the spotlight and making sure she wasn't associated with Hermione's escape.

Voldemort's face remained the same, though his red eyes grew colder. "Escaped?" he repeated softly. "How?"

"I don't know, my lord," the other man stammered, looking white as a sheet and absolutely petrified. "Th-there was no guard, and the cell was empty…"

"You are useless," Voldemort spat, and suddenly the Elder Wand was in his hand, sweeping toward the Death Eater man and sending him flying across the room. He hit the wall hard, only a few feet away from Hermione, and slumped to the ground, unconscious or worse.

Hermione scarcely dared to breathe. She hadn't expected Voldemort to be so furious at her escape—she was just another Mudblood, after all. Wasn't she?

"Find her," he said in a voice that seemed to chill the entire room. Several Death Eaters milling by the door scrambled to obey, looking relieved to escape Voldemort's mounting fury.

"But my lord," the woman began tentatively, "won't she be long gone by now?"

"She came here for a reason. She will not leave without it." He cocked his head to one side, his red eyes finding the scrawny, tall, slightly hunched man at his side. "I'm putting you in charge of the search, Lucius. Make sure she doesn't cause any more trouble."

Hermione could hardly believe the man standing beside the throne of Lord Voldemort was Lucius Malfoy. He no longer held himself with authority and dignity. He didn't look down his nose anymore; in fact, he kept his eyes lowered to the ground, his head bent, his long blonde hair straggly and lacking the careful care it had always displayed. Hermione almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Yes, my lord," he muttered, hurrying toward the door, his passage ruffling the cloak at Hermione's feet.

Several things happened at once then.

Voldemort's eyes zeroed in on the place where Hermione stood, and he said slowly, "Wait."

Barely a second after he had spoken, the doors to the chamber flew open, sending Malfoy staggering back, his face a mask of shock. Three people charged into the room, firing spells so quickly it was almost impossible for the eye to keep up. The Death Eaters stationed around the room—including Hermione's rescuer—immediately hit the floor, Stunned.

Hermione had to bite her lip to hold back her cry of joy. Ron, Ginny, and Neville stood tall in the center of the room, wands pointed threateningly at Voldemort, who had not risen from his throne. In fact, he observed the three of them with a look of boredom.

"Well, well," he said coldly. "If it isn't Harry Potter's little friends. I knew you would try to hunt me down yourselves eventually. As stupid and foolish as he was, all of you."

"We're here for him," said Ron, voice trembling with fury. "We're here to finish what he started."

Voldemort rose fluidly from his chair, and Hermione's stomach lurched. Voldemort was one of the most feared wizards of all time, not to mention in possession of the Elder Wand. She pictured her friends falling, one by one, at the Dark Lord's feet, and she almost threw the cloak off herself and sprinted to their sides. But it would be no use if she gave herself up now.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny demanded, her voice a snarl.

Voldemort's red eyes glinted. "Ah," he said quietly. "If you seek the Mudblood, you're too late. She's dead."

A stunned silence filled the room for only a moment. Hermione felt frozen; she had not expected this outright lie. Her eyes found Ron, whose hands had curled into fists at his sides, and fear at what he might do next snapped her out of her paralysis. She started toward him, only to stop in her tracks as his voice, low and strangely calm, echoed around the chamber.

"You're lying."

Voldemort surveyed them with eyes devoid of anything human. For an instant, his gaze flickered to where Hermione stood, and she had no doubt in her mind that he'd known she was there all along.

"You are foolish children, and nothing more. Yet I cannot allow you to leave this place." He raised his wand, a cold smile curling his lips. "I'm sure it's appropriate that you all meet the same end as your hero, Harry Potter. Let your last thought be this: you will die here, in this chamber, while I live on forever."


	26. Chapter 25

There was a heartbeat of absolute stillness, as if time had stopped, as if the entire world were holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next. It would only take the tiniest movement to break the silence, to pitch everything into motion, and then all of their fates would be decided. Hermione knew that this was the moment—either she and her friends would die here, beneath the school they had once loved so much, or they would come out alive, victorious.

Either way, there was no going back now.

In the end, Ron was the one to break the frozen stillness that had descended over the room.

His hand darted down, whipping something long from where it had been hidden in his robes. It caught the nonexistent light, glittering in the dim room, and at first Hermione hadn't the faintest idea what he was holding.

And then she realized, and her mouth all but fell open in shock.

_The Sword of Gryffindor. _

But how? How could they have found it? Who would have left it in a place where anyone could find it so easily?

None of that mattered now.

Perhaps if Ron had not hesitated, he could have done something. Perhaps if he had lunged blindly, without taking the time to gauge the distance between himself and the enemy, Voldemort would not have had time to act.

But the hesitation was there, however brief, and it was enough.

Voldemort swept his wand at Ron, lifting him off his feet and sending him slamming back into the wall. He slumped to the ground, dazed, the sword skittering out of his hand and sliding across the room, where it came to an abrupt stop against the wall. Hermione couldn't contain a strangled shriek as she struggled to throw the Invisibility Cloak off, stumbling to Ron's side. Before she had even crossed half the distance between them, however, an impossibly strong force knocked her backward, and she crashed into the wall. Her vision blacked out for a moment before focusing back in. Her head throbbed and something wet trickled down her hair, and the room spun sickeningly.

"Hermione!" she heard Ginny cry, and saw the girl take one step toward her before being thrown to the opposite corner of the room. Neville barely had time to open his mouth to say a spell before he had been hurled against a wall as well.

Voldemort stood in the center of the room, with the smallest of smiles curling his lipless mouth. With the simplest movement of his hand, he had already brought them to their knees before him.

Hermione fought against the despair that pooled in her stomach. She didn't even have her wand to defend herself with. She felt no surprise when Voldemort's piecing gaze swept around them and came to rest on her. He walked toward her with measured steps, taking his time, perhaps pleased that he could stand over her as she cowered on the ground beneath him.

No. She would not cower. She would be on her feet until they gave out from underneath her, until her body breathed its last.

Using the wall to support her and trying to ignore the terrible dizziness that made the room feel like it was tilting out from underneath her, Hermione dragged herself to her feet to face him. He flicked his wand at the unconscious Death Eaters as he passed them, and their eyes opened at once, dazed and confused, but mostly unharmed.

"Do not bother trying to keep your dignity, Mudblood," Voldemort said softly, stopping before her until she could see right into his eyes. She imagined she could see the fragments of his split, torn soul within, the soul that was so broken that it could not be repaired. She wondered if he had tried to make more Horcruxes, only to realize that if his soul was stretched any thinner, it would dissipate, and he would be no more. Surely a soul could not withstand being split into so many pieces. Coiled around his neck, Nagini hissed at Hermione, forked tongue flicking in and out, her eyes seeming to stare out with another piece of Voldemort's soul, full of hatred. "Perhaps if you get down on your knees and grovel, I will kill you quickly."

Hermione refused to break eye contact. "You will not live forever," she told him, wishing her voice was stronger. "It doesn't matter if you kill us all now. We won't be the last to try. Someday you'll be dead, Tom, and then what will happen to your broken soul?" She thought she caught a flash of something in his eyes at her words—fear? Or perhaps it was merely fury that she had called him by the name that he had meant to abandon for good.

"Hermione," Ron said hoarsely. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Voldemort's to look at him, but her heart ached. She suddenly wished he was standing beside her, holding her hand. Maybe she had accepted death, but that did not mean she wanted to face it alone. His voice was close by, just a little to the left of her feet. She felt fingers brush her hand, and she swallowed hard, reaching with one hand for his without daring to look down at him.

Instead, she felt him slip something into her hand—something long and slender.

A wand.

"You are nothing but another Mudblood," Voldemort hissed, his wand tip pressed against her throat. "Another blemish on wizardkind. Your death will be insignificant."

"I am not a Mudblood," Hermione said, willing force into her voice. "I am a witch."

And then she jerked the wand upward and with a blast of light, Voldemort was forced backward, at first his steps quick and surprised, then slowing as he brought up the Elder Wand to block her attack. His eyes were narrowed to furious, snakelike slits as he forced her own spell back at her. Hermione's arms shook with the effort of keeping her spell intact, hoping and praying that one of her friends would get to their feet and help her.

The Death Eaters lunged at her friends, as if afraid they would suddenly leap into action and start firing more curses. Hermione wanted to cry out as one of them roughly grabbed Ron and forced him to his feet, slamming him against the wall and holding him there. Ginny screamed furiously as another of them grabbed her in a chokehold, one hand taking a painful fistful of her hair. Lucius Malfoy, face red with anger, seized Neville, who's head drooped forward onto his chest and who looked like he couldn't put up a fight anyway.

_Please, _she whispered in her head, squeezing her eyes shut and putting all of her strength behind the light that was pouring out of the unfamiliar wand in her hands. But how could she be a match for the most powerful wand of all time? How could she hope to win against the Dark Lord?

The spell was slipping out of Hermione's control. If it rebounded on her, coupled with the strength of Voldemort's curse, she would be done for.

_We tried, _she thought, feeling strangely calm while staring into the face of her death. _We did everything we could. It wasn't enough. It never was._

Hermione stumbled back against the wall, her legs barely able to keep her upright, her wand still held out in front of her with only a foot of her own spell still visible as Voldemort forced it backward.

And then the most unexpected happened.

Neville threw his elbow back into Malfoy's face, who yelled and staggered backward, instantly releasing his prisoner, who lunged forward with such speed that Hermione could hardly believe that this was the same Neville Longbottom who had slumped defeated against the wall not minutes ago.

His fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, which was laying abandoned against the wall, and started to run.

The other Death Eaters were shouting, panicked and confused, not sure whether to throw their own captives aside and tackle Neville. Before they could make up their minds, it was too late.

Neville brought the sword down over his head in a high arc, slicing the head cleanly off of the snake that was draped across Voldemort's shoulders. The body of Nagini tumbled heavily to the ground as a smoky substance poured out of it, the fragment of Voldemort's soul that had lived in the snake dissolving into nothing.

The warring spells that had shot between Hermione's wand and Voldemort's died at once as a terrible scream filled the dungeon, rebounding off the walls. One of the Death Eaters covered his ears. Voldemort fell to his knees, red eyes wide and staring unseeingly at the ground. Hermione leaned heavily against the wall, trying to get breath back into her lungs.

Nagini was dead.

Voldemort had only the bit of soul left in his own body now. And there he was, on his knees before her now. It would be so easy to finish it right now, put everything as it should be, end all of this—

Before she could even raise her wand, Voldemort's voice rasped, "Kill them all."

The burly Death Eater who had pinned Ron against the wall put his wand against his captive's head, sneering something in his ear and easily ignoring Ron's furious struggles to escape. Ginny's Death Eater threw her to the ground, and the rest of them lunged at Neville, tackling him to the ground and wrestling the sword away from him. Hermione saw the woman that had let her escape slipping soundlessly from the room, and she wasn't sure what to think. Was it noble of her not to play a part in killing them, or cowardly of her to leave without doing anything to stop it?

Lucius Malfoy's hands grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around and slamming her back into the cold wall of the dungeon. His eyes were manic, his mouth twisted into an ugly snarl.

"You filthy Mudblood," he spat. "I should have killed you long ago."

"Now's your chance," Hermione gasped as his hand pressed against her throat, forcing the air out of her lungs.

Fury darkened his gray eyes, as if he hated the fact that she wouldn't beg him for mercy, that she wouldn't show him fear. But Hermione had no energy left to feel fear. They had killed Nagini—Voldemort's last Horcrux. The Order could finish him off. They had done everything they could, and now they were finished.

She closed her eyes as she felt Malfoy's wand digging into her neck, forcing her mind onto every joyous memory she could think of. She thought of Harry and Ron and Neville and Ginny, the people she loved, the people she had come here for. Every kiss she had ever shared with Ron. All of it flooded into her mind, turning her last moments into something beautiful, something that brought tears pressing into the backs of her eyelids.

"_Avada—"_

The door of the dungeon burst open with a bang that made every head in the room whip around, cutting Malfoy's curse off. Hermione opened her eyes, gasping as Malfoy's hold on her throat loosened and precious air poured back into her body.

She turned her eyes to the door.

And stared.

Because there was a crowd of people flooding into the room, filling the spacious dungeon, wands out and spells already flying. At first she was certain it was more Death Eaters, especially when she saw the woman who had let her go at the head of them, charging forward with determination written all over her face.

But then Hermione's eyes shifted to the people following her, and she felt nothing but utter disbelief.

Luna, Bill Weasley and Fleur, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones, Professor Trelawney, Hagrid…

And at the back of the crowd, whooping a battle cry, was George, followed by a witch that Hermione didn't know. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, healthy and whole, eyes blazing with the light of battle, a grin spread across his freckled face, looking more alive than he had since Fred's death.

"Impossible," Malfoy said, sounding stunned. "The guards…the enchantments…how could they have…?"

"Yes, it's almost like magic, isn't it?" Hermione said, wrenching his wand out of his hand and Stunning him. For the second time in the last hour, Lucius Malfoy crumpled to the ground, stiff as a board.

Aware that she was grinning foolishly, Hermione turned to survey the members of the Order that had flooded into the dungeon with no warning whatsoever, dueling the terribly outnumbered Death Eaters, who already looked poised to flee.

She was just in time to see Voldemort, his eyes pulsing with fury, as he Disapparated, leaving his Death Eaters to fend for themselves, and going who knew where.

Hermione stared at the place where he had been standing in complete shock. They had been so close—_so close_—to defeating him. They could have stopped all of this.

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.


	27. Chapter 26

Hermione Granger was a person that rarely acted before thinking. She had always believed that anything could be accomplished with the right amount of forethought and planning. Spontaneity and thoughtlessness was just the sort of thing that had often exasperated her about Harry and Ron when they were younger.

But as she watched Voldemort vanish from the place he had stood a moment before, Hermione didn't pause to think through her options. She didn't have the ghost of a plan in her mind, in fact—she just ran, out the door of the dungeon, tearing to the ground floor of the castle, desperation pushing her on.

She had no way of knowing where Voldemort could have gone. He was obviously powerful enough to ignore the enchantments on Hogwarts that prevented Disapparation within school grounds; he could have gone halfway round the world, and she would never know. Perhaps he would hide in a deep cave somewhere until he had discovered how to make more Horcruxes out of his fragmented soul, and would never be found until he had risen to greater power than ever.

Hermione couldn't let that happen. She didn't care if she searched the castle high and low and found it empty; she refused to sit down, shrug, and say, _Oh, well. _

Not after all they'd been through. Not after almost dying, watching her friends suffer, and every other horror Lord Voldemort had been responsible for.

So she tore up the staircases, the wand Ron had given her still clutched in her hand, ignoring the sound of a single voice that shouted her name.

Hermione skidded to a stop in the Great Hall, panting and turning in a rapid circle. The candles had all been extinguished, leaving the room dark except for the faint light from the corridors that opened into the Great Hall. Even the enchanted ceiling was devoid of stars. Hermione had to blink her eyes several times to adjust them to the lighting.

She was just about to go on to the next room when a high, cold voice made her freeze.

"Hermione Granger."

She turned, slowly, to see him standing in front of the staff table, his red eyes half-closed and fixed on her with an almost bored look, as if he knew that with one flick of his wand, she would be a pile of ashes.

"You have caused quite a bit of trouble for me," Voldemort said softly. The room was painfully silent, and his voice seemed to expand to fill it, crawling into Hermione's bones and casing them with ice. "Trouble that you're certainly not worth."

"I won't stop," Hermione said, cursing herself when her voice shook. "Not until one of us is dead."

Voldemort appraised her for a long moment. "Ah," he said at last. "That is quite a choice you've offered me. Fortunately for me, I find it rather easy to answer."

He took a step toward her, lifting his wand and pausing, as if wanting to prolong the moment of anticipation. Hermione instantly lifted the wand she held, but hope had left her. She was already exhausted from their first duel, and without her own wand, she knew that the outcome would be no different from last time—her spell would be forced back until she was hit with both Voldemort's curse and her own, and this time there would be no Order to jump in and save her.

Why had she gone charging out to look for Voldemort herself? He had obviously known that she would come after him. He had drawn her here to finish her off where no one would get in his way. _Or, _a somewhat dry voice in her head added, _he wanted to get the hell out of there after over a dozen wizards from the Order barged in._

"Tell me," Voldemort hissed, eyes flashing mockingly. "Are you satisfied with the work you've done here? You've only succeeded in killing all of your friends, not to mention revealing the ones that have evidently been spying on me." He tipped his head to one side. "You have done more harm than good here, little Mudblood."

"Don't call me that," said Hermione, willing strength into her hoarse voice. "I'm not a Mudblood."

"Perhaps you are right," Voldemort said, surprising her. Then his snake eyes narrowed, and he said softly, "You are nothing at all now."

He stabbed his wand toward her with such violence that Hermione automatically stumbled back. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

Hermione heard a strangled cry—perhaps it was her own—and dropped to the ground, feeling the wind of the spell tug her hair as it passed directly over her head. She heard a heavy thudding sound, and twisted to see a body lying by the doors of the Great Hall. The curse had missed her and hit whatever unlucky soul had happened to wander in at just the wrong moment.

Suddenly she remembered the voice calling after her as she raced up the stairs. Who else would have noticed her leaving?

Cold terror spread outward from her heart, leaving her momentarily frozen. She forced herself to move, crawling frantically across the floor of the Great Hall to the body, tears already threatening to blind her. If it was him—if he had died by Voldemort's curse, it would be her fault, and hers alone—if she had only let it hit her—

She reached the body and let out a half gasp, half sob of relief. It was not Ron.

She recognized him, though. It was the Death Eater that had escorted her into the castle at the beginning of the night.

Her heart leaped as she remembered something else about him. He was the one that had taken her wand.

"It's no use hiding behind bodies," Voldemort called to her. "You won't get out." As he spoke, every door leading out of the Great Hall banged shut, sealing them both inside.

Hermione plunged her hand into the pockets of the Death Eater, feeling both intense guilt and disgust alike at pick pocketing from a dead man—although she was only taking back what was hers. Her fingers closed around something long and hard, and a familiar spark of warmth shot up her arm.

Barely able to keep herself from grinning foolishly, she jerked her wand out of the man's robes and held it tightly, reveling in the instant rush of strength it seemed to give her.

Hermione got to her feet, swaying a little as her exhaustion tried to push her sudden surge of energy away. She raised her wand and lifted her chin, meeting Voldemort's hateful gaze. "Duel me," she said.

His lipless mouth curled. "I will not duel filthy blood."

"It won't matter anyway, will it?" she pressed, her voice coming out much calmer than she had anticipated. "You'll kill me either way. Why not let me go down fighting?"

She was certain he would refuse and send another Killing Curse her way, but instead he paused. "So be it," he said coldly. "Bow to me."

Hermione bowed, a short, quick bob, unwilling to take her eyes off of him for even a heartbeat. He did not bother bowing back.

"And begin," he said, and Hermione brought her wand up just in time to block another jet of green light.

She flung Stunning spell after Stunning spell at him, knowing with a growing feeling of dread that it would do her no good, even if she did manage to get past his defenses. What would Stunning him do? It had just begun to dawn on her what it meant to kill someone. She never would have imagined in a million years that she, Hermione Granger, would have the death of someone else on her hands, no matter how monstrous that person was.

Would she be able to do it? When faced with the chance, would she be able to kill Voldemort with as much deliberation and indifference as he used on his own victims?

_Doesn't matter anyway, _she thought as she narrowly avoided being blasted into a smoldering hole in the floor. _You're dead no matter what you do. You can't go up against the Elder Wand. _

Hermione was being forced steadily backward by Voldemort's onslaught of curses, and her exhaustion was worsening. Her legs hit the bench of a table and she fell, landing painfully on the hard floor of the Great Hall. She tried to heave herself back to her feet, but her limbs were shaking with tiredness.

Voldemort swept toward her, and by the look on his face, Hermione knew he had grown tired of toying with her. She was no Harry Potter—what was the point of gloating? She lifted her wand in a vain attempt to block his next spell, feeling as if all the magic had drained out of her system. She was tempted to close her eyes, but she kept them open, fixed on Voldemort's glowing red gaze. She would die staring him down, and she would not cower at his feet.

And then something remarkable happened.

Voldemort's head snapped back, as if something had grabbed him round the neck and pulled. He staggered backward, making a horrible, high-pitched noise of rage that hurt Hermione's ears. His hands clawed at something unseen behind him.

Hermione moved as if in slow motion. She lifted her wand, which was buzzing silently with weariness or anticipation or both, and whispered, "_Expelliarmus." _

Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand and into Hermione's, simply and smoothly.

Hermione stared at it in awe as a surge of power, raw and pure, burst from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her hair. Did this mean that it belonged to her now? She had disarmed its owner, hadn't she? Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she managed to struggle upright, pointing the Elder Wand at a still-struggling Voldemort.

His hand closed around something and pulled. Suddenly Voldemort was holding the Invisibility Cloak, and Ron was clinging to his back, his arms locked tightly around the Dark Lord's throat as if trying to strangle him to death. His face was screwed up with concentration, his eyes ablaze with determination.

"Run!" Ron shouted at her around Voldemort's shrieks of fury.

"No," said Hermione, although she doubted he had heard. Running away would do them no good now.

She willed the magic still inside of her to work and shouted, "_Stupefy!" _

Red sparks burst out of the end of the Elder Wand, a pathetic excuse for a Stunning spell.

Hermione stared at it in confusion. Wasn't she its master? Why wouldn't it work for her?

Frustrated and growing desperate as Voldemort's hands closed around Ron's throat and started to pull him away, she shoved the Elder Wand into her pocket and aimed her own wand instead. She had to do this flawlessly, lest she hit Ron instead. Her hand was trembling and her breathing hitched in her chest, but she shoved her fear away and focused her whole mind on her target, who had just dragged Ron away from his chokehold and had him by the hair, red eyes glittering with pure rage.

Hermione inhaled once, then forced the magic simmering inside of her out through the end of her wand.

She wasn't sure who was more surprised by the explosion of light that came from her wand—Hermione herself or Voldemort. He looked up, his eyes widening, in time to see white light roaring toward him. It carried him off his feet, across the room, and slammed him into the wall.

Ron fell to his knees with a sharp grunt. Hermione ran to him and tugged him to his feet, squeezing his arm hard enough to cut off the circulation. They stared at Voldemort, who looked strangely weak and small slumped against the wall, so different from the imposing figure he struck when he was the one with the upper hand.

"Is he dead?" Hermione whispered, her voice too loud in the silent room.

Ron shook his head, absently rubbing his head. "No. I don't think so."

Hermione shut her eyes briefly. It would have been so easy if that were it. No thought behind it—just one swift spell to get rid of him for good.

"Come on." He pulled her toward Voldemort, who was already beginning to recover, bracing his hands on the wall in preparation to pull himself to his feet.

Even without a wand, Hermione had no doubt that Voldemort was dangerous. Letting him recover his strength now would be suicide.

But her hand shook as she tried to summon up the will to kill him. There was no doubt in her mind that she hated him, and that she wanted him dead. But to be the one to do it?

"Hermione," Ron whispered hoarsely. "You can do this. I—"

Hermione never heard what he was about to say, because at that moment the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Bellatrix Lestrange was standing at the threshold, a whirl of black robes and hair, her mad eyes fixing on the two of them.

"My lord!" she screamed in anguish, her fear for him mixing with her rage. She ran, firing curses wildly as she went. They crashed into the walls and tables, making the enchanted ceiling shudder.

As if on an instinct, Ron jumped in front of Hermione, blocking the curses that managed to get near them. With one excellently aimed spell, Ron had Bellatrix frozen on the ground, her face still paralyzed in a grotesque mask of fury and terror—not for herself, but for Voldemort.

"Should've killed you a long time ago," Ron snarled, lifting his wand again.

Hermione felt a hand clamp around her neck, jerking her backward with incredible strength. Her gasp was cut off with her air, and her hands automatically tried to pry the long white fingers away, but it was as if they had been attached to her skin with a permanent sticking charm.

Voldemort's soft voice hissed, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "I would release Bellatrix if I were you, boy."

Ron looked over his shoulder, his face going white. "Let her go," he said forcefully. "If you let Hermione go, I'll do the same for Bellatrix. It's your choice."

Voldemort chuckled, a cold sound that made Hermione want to close her eyes and curl into a ball. "I don't think you're in any position to negotiate." As if to prove his point, he squeezed, and Hermione choked, beginning to panic as her body begged for oxygen.

Ron looked at Hermione with his face full of anguish before letting his wand drop to his side. Bellatrix was instantly released; she drew in a huge gulp of air as if she had been holding her breath.

"Now let her go," said Ron, looking as if he wasn't sure whether to point his wand at Bellatrix or Voldemort. "A deal's a deal."

"When you've been around for as long as I have," said Voldemort, "you learn not to make deals."

He constricted his hand around Hermione's throat until her vision started to turn black and Ron's shouts began to fade. Her hand still grasped her wand loosely; her brain was starting to shut down, her body sagging, but she summoned up enough strength to lift her arm and rest the tip of it against Voldemort's side.

She had no breath to say an incantation, but she put all of her dwindling focus into one last spell. She held Ron's face in her mind, his smile, the way his ears turned pink when he was embarrassed. Heat exploded in her hand and the fingers around her throat disappeared abruptly. She could hear screaming as if from very far away, but that too faded as she felt the ground beneath her knees, then pressed against her cheek, and then nothing at all.

* * *

_Cliffhangers, how I despise you, even when I'm writing you. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to tell me your thoughts! _


	28. Chapter 27

_Sorry I haven't updated in so long! But I'm here now, and isn't that all that matters? No? Okay, Okay, I'll just get on with the chapter._

Hermione was floating.

She had never felt so weightless before, as if everything tethering her to the earth, every fear and worry and responsibility, had fallen away and left her free. Her mind had never felt so clear, and yet so empty; she struggled to grasp memories, emotions, anything, but it was as if everything had been sucked out of her. She was free, but hollow.

Hermione willed her thoughts to come back to her, the feelings and memories that made her Hermione Granger, and slowly, little by little, sensation came back to her, both physical and mental, welcome and unwelcome.

She could feel cold, hard ground beneath her. Her throat ached and she could scarcely breathe, but it was better than the weightless, hollow feeling of before. Everything that had happened started crashing back into her head with such force that she couldn't sort them apart from one another.

Then she felt something—fingers grasping her shoulders. Her heart leaped with joy as her brain automatically responded, _Ron. _She opened her eyes, her vision blurring as if water clouded it.

It was not Ron bending over her.

It was Bellatrix.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out of her battered throat. Bellatrix's face was contorted in a snarl of crazed rage and anguish, her eyes glittering feverishly and her hair falling in tangles in her face. Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing and her long fingernails dug into Hermione's skin.

"What have you done to him?" she whispered, and the look in her eyes struck true fear in Hermione's heart. "Reverse it. Reverse it or _I will kill you." _

"What?" Hermione was able to croak out.

Bellatrix wrenched her into a sitting position, making several bits of her shriek with pain, grabbed her by the chin, and jerked her face around.

Hermione's eyes focused and then widened. Voldemort knelt on one knee not far away, his gleaming white head bowed and his breathing labored. One long-fingered hand was braced on his leg, the other trailing on the ground with the Elder Wand loosely grasped in it. His eyes were closed, and Hermione thought she saw a tremor pass through him.

"What spell did you use?" Bellatrix's voice rose to a strangled shriek. "Tell me!"

"I don't know," Hermione got out.

"Liar!" Bellatrix screamed. "Do you want another taste of the Cruciatus Curse, you filthy little Mudblood? Haven't you had enough?"

Hermione flinched at the memory. She risked a glance around the room for Ron, but there was no one to be seen aside from her, Bellatrix, and Voldemort. Where had he gone? Had he run for help? Surely he wasn't dead. _Please, don't let him be dead…_

There was only one thing Hermione could think to do now, and she had to be closer to do it.

"I'll reverse it," Hermione all but whispered.

Bellatrix instantly yanked her to her feet and dragged her over to Voldemort's crouched form. Hermione thought he looked almost like an animal, bent over at her feet. She could almost pretend he was defeated, if she ignored the wand prodding her in the side and Bellatrix's fingernails cutting into her arm.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Bellatrix breathed, her eyes worshipful and terrified as she looked at her lord.

Hermione raised her hand and felt it shake slightly. When she had taken up this mission that Harry had started, she'd known she wouldn't necessarily get a happy ending. She had accepted that with ease; all it took was imagining Harry, standing brave and tall before Voldemort and staring his death straight in the face. She wanted to die that way, too—a hero.

Voldemort lifted his head as if it took an enormous amount of effort and fixed his red eyes on hers. She wondered if he was reading her thoughts, or if he had somehow sensed her resolve. They stared at each other for a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, Hermione thought she saw fear in his face.

She raised her wand and opened her mouth, but before she could say a thing something hit her in the back and sent her sprawling forward. She gasped for the air that had just been knocked out of her and struggled to her hands and knees. She raised her head to find black-robed Death Eaters pouring into the room, shouting things she couldn't understand, and despair blacker than any she'd ever felt hit her like the Cruciatus curse.

The Order had failed. They'd been defeated. And now the Death Eaters were here to finish off the last of them.

Then she realized they were all running in the same direction—toward the entrance hall. Toward the front door.

They were running away.

Hermione's mouth gaped open as she watched them flee, some of them firing panicked curses over their shoulders and hitting nothing but walls and tables—one of which must have crashed into Hermione. Voldemort had struggled to his feet and was roaring at them, "Fools! Stand your ground!" but few listened.

Voldemort swung around to face the door they had come in through, his eyes blazing, in time to see the Order stampeding into the Great Hall, firing at the fleeing Death Eaters, battered but still eager for battle.

Hermione stumbled to her feet and started toward them, only to feel a hand clamp around her arm. Bellatrix dragged her back, eyes alight with crazed fire, and snarled, "Leaving so soon?"

"Oi, Bellatrix!" a wonderfully familiar voice shouted. Bellatrix turned automatically, baring her teeth in an animal snarl, in time to see Ron raise his wand and point it at her chest.

"This is for Fred," he bellowed, and a huge jet of light burst out of his wand and send Bellatrix flying backward. She slammed into the wall and her head cracked against it with a noise that could be heard even over the sounds of the battle. She slid down to the floor and her eyes stared sightlessly ahead.

Hermione looked at Ron in disbelief. He still stood with his wand up, breathing hard. Their eyes met.

"She had it coming," he said grimly.

Hermione wanted to thank him, or better yet to throw her arms around him and never let him go, but then his eyes flicked past her and widened. "Hermione!" he yelled. "Behind you!"

She spun around in time to see Voldemort rising to his full height. He looked at her with smoldering hatred in his eyes, and Hermione knew just by the fact that he didn't raise his wand to blast her into oblivion that he was planning to Disapparate.

For the second time that night, Hermione acted without thinking.

Her wand jerked up, almost of its own accord, and a cry burst out of her bruised throat, a cry that was for Fred and Charlie, Lupin and Tonks, Professor McGonagall, and most of all for Harry.

Light erupted from her wand and hit Voldemort squarely in the chest, right where his heart was.

Time seemed to stop. He staggered backward, his red eyes wide with shock, his wand falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. His hands reached up to claw at his chest, and for a moment their eyes met. Hermione could almost hear him screaming, _I won't be defeated by a Mudblood! _

"I am not a Mudblood," she whispered, and he crumbled to the ground, a shell of the monster he had been.

Voldemort was dead.

The fighting seemed to stop instantaneously. Hermione thought she heard someone yell, "He's dead!" and the rest of the Death Eaters who had stayed to fight scattered like deer. The Order of the Phoenix cheered and roared, hugging each other, shooting sparks of victory into the air, overjoyed that it was finally over. People crowded around Hermione, embracing her, clapping her on the back, crying on her. She kept her eyes on Ron, who stood outside the crowd, a smile slowly growing bigger on his face.

"You did it, Hermione!" Ginny shouted, throwing her arms around her. Her eyes shone with tears but her expression was fierce. "For Harry," she said in a softer voice, and Hermione nodded, a lump forming in her throat.

Hermione watched through the crowd of her congratulators as Neville limped over to Ron, looking exhausted and bruised and sporting a bloody cut on his forehead, but looking triumphant. Two people followed behind him, covered in soot as if they'd just come out of a fireplace, decorated in their own wounds. Hermione caught her breath and could have cried or sang with relief and joy.

Ron looked over at Neville and smiled, at first not even recognizing who was with him. Then his eyes bugged out and he gave a wordless shout, throwing himself at his parents, who both wrapped him up in their arms. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing and even Mr. Weasley had to wipe the corners of his eyes.

With a shriek, Ginny threw herself at her family, and Hermione noticed George standing not far away, grinning at them, with Bill and Fleur at his side. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so happy as she watched the remnants of the Weasley family coming together again at last.

Mrs. Weasley looked up and spotted her, as if sensing her thoughts, and barged through the people surrounding Hermione. She swept her up into a bone-crushing hug and whispered tearfully in her ear, "I'm so glad you're all right, dear. You've no idea how worried I've been."

Hermione felt tears on her cheeks and smiled, relaxing into Mrs. Weasley. She caught Ron's eye over his mother's shoulder and he grinned at her with joy that she had never thought she'd see again on his face. She pulled away from Mrs. Weasley with another smile and then ran at him. He opened his arms and she flew into them.

Not caring who was watching—even his parents—Hermione pressed her lips to his, and felt his overjoyed laughter rumbling in his chest. And for the first time in five years, she was happy.

Truly happy.

* * *

_Well, this is almost the time where we part ways. There's going to be an epilogue up soon, and then that will be the end of What if the Boy Hadn't Lived? Thank you all so much for reading! You're the best!_


	29. Epilogue

_Well, here it is! The last chapter of What if the Boy Hadn't Lived? *sniffle* I promised myself I wouldn't do this..._

"Neville, you've tracked soot into the kitchen!" cried Mrs. Weasley in distress as he stepped out of the fireplace, looking alarmed as she charged toward him. "Don't stand there, clean it up! They'll be here any minute! Oh, never mind, I'll do it..."

"Good to see you, too, Mum," said Ginny dryly, who had followed Neville out of the fireplace and into the kitchen.

"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley, pausing in her furious bout of cleaning fit and looking reasonably abashed, "I'm sorry, Ginny, it's just that they haven't been able to come by in months, and what with their surprise—"

"I know, I know," said Ginny, waving her hand impatiently and accepting Mrs. Weasley 's hasty hug. She threw a smirk at George, who was watching them with an amused expression from the doorway, and added under her breath, "Everything has to be perfect for Ickle Wonnykins," making him snicker.

"I heard that," said Mrs. Weasley, shooing them into the parlor. "Go and listen for the door!"

"You've already got Bill, Perce, _and _Ted listening for it, Mum," George pointed out, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's fiery glare. "Unless you're worried they've all gone suddenly deaf, I don't think you need to put poor Ginny and Neville on guard duty."

"Why aren't _you_ stationed out there?" Ginny asked as she led Neville quickly through the kitchen door, both of them rather relieved to be away from Mrs. Weasley's frenzied activity.

George pointed to his missing ear and grinned. "Sometimes this little doozy really comes in handy. Can't very well listen for the door with one ear, can I?" Neville chuckled and Ginny just rolled her eyes.

"I see them!" Teddy yelled from his place by the window, where he had been solemnly keeping a lookout for the past half hour. "They just Apparated outside the gate!"

"Take cover!" George shouted as Mrs. Weasley burst into the room, flinging her wand back and forth to straighten the portraits and make one last check for stray dust on the bookshelves.

"Molly," said Mr. Weasley beseechingly. "Do you really think all of this is necessary? It isn't as if they haven't been here before—"

"One of them hasn't," she snapped, and he ducked his head at her tone, mumbling, "Right, dear. Of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Neville, confused, as the others looked curiously from Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley, neither of whom responded.

"All right, everyone," said Mrs. Weasley, looking as nervous as if the Minister of Magic himself were at the door—which still wouldn't have warranted that much anxiety, seeing as the Minister was Kingsley Shacklebolt and was familiar enough with the lot of them that he could not inspire a reaction like this out of Mrs. Weasley. "Positions!"

"Positions?" said Bill. "We've got positions now?"

"You really should have mentioned this earlier, Mum," said George, pretending to look stricken. "I haven't rehearsed. I don't know my lines. Oh, I'm going to humiliate myself in front of Ron, I just know it—"

With one last glare at George, Mrs. Weasley turned to the door, waiting with unconcealed excitement as two pairs of footsteps neared. Ron was only able to knock once before she had flung the door open and swept him up into her arms.

"Ron! It's so good to see you! I'm so glad you could come!" she cried, on the verge of tears of happiness.

Hermione grinned at the sight of the entire family waiting for them. It had been too long since they'd all gotten together, or even seen each other at all; Ron and Hermione had both been busy with their new jobs in the Ministry, and with their latest little surprise, of course. They hadn't had a minute to spare to even drop by the Burrow, let alone have a gathering with everyone.

Ginny reached her first, towing Neville by the hand. She hugged Hermione tight with her free arm, keeping a firm hold of Neville with her other. When they drew back, Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Ginny set her jaw and tightened her fingers in Neville's, her face turning pink, as if daring Hermione to comment. Neville was grinning in an embarrassed way, the bottom of his robes stained with soot. He looked a thousand times better than he had two years ago when they'd broken him out of Azkaban; his face had lost its sallow, sunken look and his eyes shone.

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could say anything George all but shoved Ginny and Neville aside, throwing one arm around Hermione's shoulders and the other around Ron's, who had just squirmed out of Mrs. Weasley's bone-crushing embrace.

"Well, now the party can finally begin!" he said loudly, winking at Hermione. "It just wasn't complete without Ronny."

Ron's ears turned pink as he tried to struggle away from his brother, scowling. "Ha-ha."

The others crowded around to greet them as well. Bill clapped Ron on the shoulder and grinned at Hermione, who was given quite a shock when Fleur exclaimed, "'Ermione! It eez so good to see you!" and caught her up in a willowy hug. Hermione could barely stammer out an "it's good to see you, too" in her surprise. Percy was another shock—she hadn't seen him for at least seven years, back when Voldemort had first taken complete control over the Wizarding world. She didn't know exactly where he'd been, whether he had stayed at his job in the Ministry or if he'd gone to work for the Order. He nodded stiffly at her and hung at the edge of the group, looking uncomfortable.

Little Teddy hugged Hermione round the knees before throwing himself at Ron, who spun him in a circle with a labored grunt. "You're getting heavy, Ted!" he groaned. "How old are you now, fifty?"

"I'm seven and a half!" said Teddy indignantly. "How old are _you?" _

Hermione laughed along with the others as Ron's eyes widened with surprise. Just looking at all the faces smiling around her was enough to fill her with joy. The years following Voldemort's final fall had been so busy that she'd scarcely been able to enjoy the family she had officially entered into.

After all the hugs and greetings had been exchanged, Mrs. Weasley ushered everyone into chairs and practically demanded that they strike up decent conversation while she went and tended to a few more things—which, Hermione supposed, meant she had remembered a few more things she wanted to clean.

"Want to help me check on dinner, Ginny?" asked Hermione conversationally, and though the other girl looked a little uneasy, she got up and followed Hermione into the kitchen. Hermione closed the door behind them and spun around, suppressing the river of questions that wanted to pour out of her mouth.

For a moment they just stood and looked at each other. Then Hermione said casually, "So. You and Neville, huh?"

Ginny crossed her arms, looking defensive. "Yeah, me and Neville," she said, her eyes fierce and challenging Hermione to say something negative. "Is there a problem with that?"

Hermione took a breath to respond, but before she could Ginny swept on.

"Just because I was Harry's girlfriend doesn't mean I can't be with anyone else, ever." She looked away, her jaw clenched. "I loved him," she went on more softly. "I still do, and I always will. But Neville and I…we need each other, Hermione. We really do. Without him…" She shook her head. "There are just too many memories."

"Actually," said Hermione gently, "I was going to tell you that I think you two are wonderful together, and I couldn't be happier for you both."

Ginny looked as if she had been stricken absolutely speechless. Hermione wondered whether any of the others thought it insensitive of her to move on from Harry, though she couldn't imagine who would. Perhaps Ginny had painted up a far worse reaction in her mind, a reaction that hadn't been lived up to.

The sound of a motorcycle engine outside made a grin split Hermione's face. "Sounds like the surprise is here."

Ginny looked at her suspiciously. "Mum mentioned something about that. What surprise?"

"You'll see." Hermione strode out the back door to meet Hagrid as he descended on his roaring motorcycle, which wobbled precariously under his weight.

The others spilled out of the house after Hermione, many of them looking puzzled and extremely curious. Ron stopped at Hermione's side and took her hand, and they smiled at each other. Hermione had to stop herself from racing over to Hagrid and snatching the bundle right out of his arms.

"I see the motorcycle is in working order," said Mr. Weasley, unable to hide the pride in his voice.

Hagrid nodded vigorously. "Works better'n it ever has, Arthur. Yer a real genius with these contraptions, yeh know that?"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat modestly but flushed red with pleasure.

"What have you got there, Hagrid?" asked Bill, his eyes already zeroed in on the blankets tucked into Hagrid's huge arm and the beginnings of a smile dawning on his lips.

Hermione tightened her grip on Ron's hand and together they walked up to the motorcycle, which rumbled noisily in the quiet of the garden. Hermione gently took the bundle from Hagrid's arms, looking up into his big, shaggy face to see tears tracking down his cheeks.

"Hagrid!" she said, concerned.

"I'm all righ'," he choked, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Just brings back memories, is all."

Hermione patted his arm, sadness filling her. Even seven years hadn't dulled the pain of losing him, not for any of them.

Mrs. Weasley was hovering nearby, practically bursting with excitement. Hermione had already explained the "surprise" to her by owl, swearing her to secrecy. Ron put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, his chest puffed up with pride, and guided her forward until she stood amongst the others.

Hermione carefully shifted the blankets, revealing a small, red-haired head blinking brown eyes at them, a small fist waving in the air.

A small gasp went around the group as if a breeze had rippled through the garden.

"That's…" Ginny's mouth was gaping. She looked up at Ron in amazement. "Is that…"

"Yeah," said Ron, beaming at Hermione. "He's ours."

There was a great deal of activity, then.

Mrs. Weasley started crying tears of happiness and had to hide her face in Mr. Weasley's shoulder. Bill slapped Ron on the back, wearing a huge grin, and George shouted, "Well done, mate!" Fleur gave a rather high-pitched squeal and hugged Hermione for the second time in one day, which would never fail to bewilder her. Neville was looking down at the baby with a look of wonder, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Even Percy, who had seemed so out of place before, was crowded around with the rest of them, smiling.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ginny demanded.

"We wanted it to be a surprise," said Ron with a shrug.

George eyed Hagrid. "And is there any particular reason you wanted Hagrid to bring him on a bloody flying motorcycle?"

"Didn't want to Apparate with him," explained Hermione. She saw no reason why she should say that they had wanted Hagrid, who had been fawning over the baby ever since his birth, to have the honors of bringing him. She knew what it would remind him off: bringing little Harry to the Dursleys' so many years ago. Having him bring Hermione's son seemed...right.

"What is it?" Teddy cried from below, sounding frustrated. "I can't see!"

Hermione knelt down and showed him the baby. Teddy tipped his head to one side, curious. "He looks funny," he said. "Kind of red."

"That's because he's a Weasley!" George shouted, punching the air with his fist.

"He wasn't born that long ago, Ted," explained Ron with an exasperated look at George. "Believe it or not, you were that color when you were born, too."

Teddy made a face. "Nuh-uh!"

Suddenly the baby reached out and grasped Teddy's finger, making the little boy freeze and look at him in amazement.

"Wow," said Teddy, experimentally tugging against the baby's grip. "He's strong for a baby."

"He is," said Hermione, smiling. "Just like his namesake."

"What's his name?" asked Teddy.

Hermione glanced briefly at Ron, and in that look they shared a hundred thoughts, memories, sorrows, joys. There was brief silence, whole and complete, in the garden as everyone waited for the answer.

"Harry," said Hermione softly, looking down at the little baby. "His name is Harry."

The silence stretched on for a moment, and then Ginny knelt down beside Hermione, putting her hand on her shoulder. "It's a perfect name," she said quietly.

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, holding her son close. She felt like if she concentrated hard enough, she could feel someone else kneeling on her other side, his emerald eyes glowing and his face split in a grin, forever there and never leaving.

* * *

_And there it is! The end of my first fanfiction. This chapter was the hardest one to write out of all of them so far, and no, not because I was blinded by tears and sobbing uncontrollably. Although that might have been part of it..._

_Anyway, I hope it was a satisfying ending. I couldn't think for the life of me what to do for the epilogue, and this seemed like a fairly good way to wrap it up. A few tidbits of info not included in the chapter are that Luna Lovegood is now training to be the future Care of Magical Creatures teacher; a respectable and good-hearted Ministry worker by the name of Terence Mulfic became Headmaster of Hogwarts and is doing a splendid job; Ron works with Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office (he only agreed to it because he knew it would overjoy his dad, and he's not sure he can take it much longer), and Hermione is preparing to become an Auror. Both of them also do quite a bit of work for the Order, helping them get the info they need to track down any remaining dangerous Death Eaters._

_Yeah, I know the ending was corny. But I figured that since in the actual seventh book of Harry Potter he names his kids after all the people he admired, I would do the same for Ron and Hermione. Hope it didn't verge on creepy or anything._

_And to finish off this painfully long Author's Note, I'd like to say how grateful I am to each and every one of you! Your support and reviews were really encouraging, and I enjoyed writing every word of this story. I'm genuinely sad to be finished. _

_You guys are awesome! _


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